That  ^ruisin'  Lad 


■%    0 


II  Vi 


A    NOVEL. 


BY 


THOMAS  BRUCE, 


THE 

WILLIAM  R.  PERKINS 

UBRARY 

OF 


DUKE  UNIVERSITY 


Rare  Books 


That  Bruisin'  Lad 

o'  Greystone  Lodge 


A  Novel. 


BY 


THOMAS    BRUCE. 

Author  of  "Cnpld  ami  Duty,"  '"Hititorical  Sketches  of  Roanoke,"  "Loveleti  Marriages. 


COPYRIGHT  SECURED. 


ROAXOKK,    Va.  : 

THE   BELI.   PRINTINC.    AND    MANrFACTVRING    CO. 

1890. 


'"t  FLOWERS  COLLFCTinv   K16K 


That  Brnisin'  Lad  o'  Greystone  Lodge. 


jHIRLY— situated  in  the  western  portion  of  North 
Carolina,  is  a  brand  new  place.  The  trees  are 
mere  saplings,  jnst  beginning  to  shoot ;  the  narrow 
streets  not  even  finished  in  the  suburbs,  and  the 
people  so  new  that  scarcely  anyone  knows  whence  another 
comes.  Everything  smells  ot  paint,  varnish  and  oil.  The 
inhabitants  have  a  contempt  for  anything  on  which  time 
has  laid  its  honored  hand,  and  the  gentle  voices  of  culture 
and  refinement  are  drowned  in  the  hubbub  created  by  a 
struggle  for  the  almighty  dollar  and  material  prosperity. 

John  Sylvester,  a  few  years  ago  came  to  Shirly  in  a 
modest  way,  as  a  modest  contractor,  on  a  modest  scale,  and 
by  dint  ot  faithful  enterprise,  as  well  as  successful  manage- 
ment, had  become  comparatively  well  off.  And  now  Mrs. 
John  was  one  of  the  leading  social  spirits  of  the  day  ;  one  of 
the  highest  of  the  high,  the  most  elegant  of  the  elegant, 
among  the  mushroom  society  of  Shirly.  In  the  Sylvester 
household  she  is  Lord  Paramount  of  all — the  centre  around 
which  everything  else  revolves,  while  Mr.  John  is  but  an 
appendage  to  reflect  glory  upon  her,  as  her  horse  and  phae- 
ton, or  any  other  piece  of  property  which  she  denominates 
her  own. 

But  the  Sylvesters  had  a  daughter  born  unto  them  some 
seventeen  years  ago,  who  stands  out  in  bold  relief  (not  in 
size)  when  placed  by  the  side  of  her  mother.  A  lovely 
maiden  she  is,  with  sweet,  quiet,  thoughtful  ways  and  a 
quaint  vein  of  fun  and  humor  running  through  her.  One 
could  not  help  taking  a  fancy  to  her,  with  her  dark,  lustrous 
eyes,  beautiful  mouth,  and  pretty,  petite,  rounded  figure. 
Julia  must  have  inherited  her  quiet,  unassuming  ways  from 


4  THAT    HRirTSIN     LAD  0     CREYRTONE  LODnK. 

her  father's  side,  because  there  were  none  on  her  mother's 
to  be  transmitted.  Althouo^h  attached  to  the  hitter,  she  was 
free  from  those  jarring,  grating  ways  which  detracted 
ted  so  much  from  her  parent.  Iler  mother  brooked  neither 
rivalry  nor  opposition  ;  yet  it  was  quite  a])parent  that  if  the 
occasion  ever  rose,  Julia's  characteristics  would  as  surely 
overcome  her  mother's  as  truth,  peace  and  good  sense  con- 
quer those  qualities  of  an  opposite  natiire. 

Julia  was  just  beginning  to  have  company  and  beaux. 
At  pi  esent  her  cousin  from  Etna  was  staying  with  her — a 
Miss  Rosa  Reynolds.  Julia's  first  beau  was  named  Will 
Archer,  a  blue-eyed,  light-haired,  uncouth  youth,  who  never 
seemed  at  his  ease,  and  found  it  almost  impossible  to  dis- 
pose of  his  hands  or  feet. 

Thus  it  was  Charlie  Metcalf  found  things  on  his  return 
to  Shirly,  when  ho  rented  a  room  in  the  Sylvester  mansion, 
because  he  knew"  and  liked  Mr.  Sylvester,  whom  he  Viad 
met  some  years  ago. 

One  Sunday  Metcalf  came  in  from  his  dinner.  Passing 
the  parlor  door  he  saw  the  young  ladies  in  the  room  with  a 
young  gentleman,  whom  he  recognized  as  Archer.  Charlie 
was  about  to  ascend  the  8tair-\\  ay,  when  arrested  by  the 
sound  of  his  name  called,  he  turned  and  walked  towards 
the  door. 

'•Mr.  Nfetcalf,  come  in  here!"  called  out  Miss  Rey- 
nolds. 

"  What  can  1  do  for  yon?"  he  asked,  smiling  as  he 
entered. 

"  We  are  making  up  an  excursion  party  and  want  you 
to  join  us,"  she  answered. 

"  Where  to  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  To  the  White  Sulphur  Springs,  near  here,"  spoke  up 
Archer.  "  We  are  going  the  latter  part  of  this  week,  and 
I  am  going  to  take  Miss  Julia." 

"  I  have  not  said  that  I  would  go  with  you,  Mr. 
Archer,"    spoke  Julia,  ratlier    brusquely,    turning  herself 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  5 

around  on  the  piano  stool,  and  lightly  running  the  fingers 
of  one  hand  over  the  key -board  of  the  instrument. 

Metealf  looked  up  in  some  surprise.  He  had  always 
seen  girls  of  her  age  treat  their  first  beau  with  some  gentle- 
ness, even  if  they  were  not  to  the  manner  born. 

"  Why,  Julia  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Reynolds,  "  you  know 
you  are  going  with  him.  F  thought  it  was  all  arranged, 
that  you  w^ere  to  go  with  Mr.  Archer,  and  I — " 

"To  go  with  me,  is  that  it  ?"  interrupted  Metealf,  in  his 
usually  audacious  manner. 

"  You  conceited  thing  !"  she  cried,  "  [  never  thought 
about  going  wnth  you,  T — " 

•'  But  I  did  with  you,"  he  interrupted  again,  "  and 
that's  why  I  mentioned  if 

"  Miss  Julia,  said  that  she  would  go  with  me,  didn't 
she,  Miss  Rosa?"  asked  Archer,  appealing  to  Miss  Rey- 
nolds. 

"  Of  course,"  responded  she,  with  a  malicious  twinkle 
in  her  fine  eyes. 

"Certainly  she  wMll  go  with  you,"  put  in  ^[etcalf,  look- 
ing at  Archer.  Charlie  was  now  bent  on  assisting  Rosa, 
who  was  teasing  Julia. 

"I  never  promised  to  go  with  you,  Mr.  Archer,"  said 
Julia  stoutly,  turning  around  on  the  stool  and  facing  the 
whole  crowd,  with  a  half  defiant  air. 

"  Don't  you  mind  her,  Mr.  Archer,"  laughed  Metealf, 
"  She  rarely  means  what  she  says.  She  very  often  says  no 
when  she  means  yes." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  young  ladies,"  Archer  said,  smiling 
in  a  nervous  manner,  as  he  looked  towards  Julia. 

"  You  don't  quite  understand  me,  if  you  think  I'm 
going  to  the  Springs  with  you,"  said  Julia,  rising  and  leav- 
ing the  room  in  a  dignified  manner. 

An  embarrassing  pause  succeeded  her  departure.  Met- 
ealf felt  really  sorry  for  Archer,  as  he  sat  first  on  one  hand 


h  THAT   imriSlX      LAD  U     GREY.STONE  LOIXJK. 

and  then  on  the  othei',  pushing  first  one  foot  and  then  the 
other  under  his  cliair. 

"  Miss  Rosa,"  asked  Charlie,  desiring  to  lessen  the 
embarrassment  in  some  way,  "  won't  you  go  with  me  to 
church  to-night?*' 

■'  Why,  certainly — if  thi'  rest  go,"  she  replied. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  young  lady,  Mr.  Archer  ?" 
inquired  he. 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  she  asked,  looking  quickly 
at  Metcalf. 

"  Telling  me  if  the  rest  go  I""  exclaimed  Charlie.  "  I 
suppose  if  I  wanted  the  rest  I  could  ask  them.*' 

"  Miss  Rosa,"  asked  Archer,  "  won't  you  please  ask 
Miss  Julia  to  come  in  here  a  moment  ?" 

"  Certainly,  I  will,"  she  answered,  rising  and  leaving. 

In  a  moment  she  returned,  followed  by  the  reluctant 
Julia. 

"  Miss  Julia,"  said  Archer,  sitting  on  both  hands  and 
tapping  the  carpet  with  his  right  foot,  "  I  want  yon  to  allow 
me  the  pleasure  of  escorting  you  to  church.  Miss  Rosa  and 
Mr.  Metcalf  are  going.  It  will  be  so  jolly  for  us  to  go  along 
together." 

That  last  sentence  was  of  course,  held  out  as  an 
inducement. 

"  Mama  does  not  allow  me  to  go  t(^  church  with  young 
gentlemen,"  she  said,  flushing  a  little  as  she  looked  at  Met- 
calf and  took  her  seat  again  on  the  piano  stool. 

Ye  gods  !  what  a  fib  !  thought  Metcalf,  as  he  remem- 
bered ha^nng  escorted  her  to  church  last  Sunday  evening 
without  any  objections  on  Mrs.  Sylvester's, part. 

"  Oh  I  ah  !  I  did  not  understand,"  stammered  Archer, 
crushing  his  hat  in  his  hand,  [)reparatory  to  leiiving.  "  Good 
morning,"  and  he  bowed  himself  out. 

"Julia  I'"  exclaimed  Rosa,  laughing,  as  soon  as  she 
heard  the  gate  shut,  "  you  treat  that  young  man  shame- 
fully." 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GRETSTONE  LODGE.  7 

''  Oh,  but  he  is  such  a  bore,  and  so  obtuse,  and  so  igno- 
rant," said  she,  petulantly. 

"  You  are  a  novel  young  lady,  at  all  events,"  laughed 
Metcalf,  taking  a  cigar  from  his  case. 

"  How  so  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  Because  you  are  the  first  one  I  ever  knew  Avho  did 
not  like  beaux,  unless  they  were  agreeable  to  her,"  he  replied, 
biting  oft'  the  end  of  his  cigar. 

"  You'll  catch  tits  if  you  smoke  that  cigar  in  here," 
laughed  Rosa.  "  Aunt  Sylvester  thinks  lots  of  her 
curtains." 

"Smoke  on,  Mr.  Metcalf,"  smiled  .Tulia.  "  You  need 
not»mind  mama,  and  all  her  notions." 

Her  contemptuous  accent  upon  the  last  word  amused  him. 

"  I  expect  I  had  better  go  on  the  veranda,"  he  said, 
rising  and  suiting  his  actions  to  his  words. 

Wlien  Charlie  came  in  that  evening  after  tea  to  take 
Kosa  to  church,  to  his  chagrin  he  found  that  she  was  not 
alone.  Both  Julia  and  Mary  Kyle,  the  hired  girl  of  the 
house,  were  with  her  ;  and  all  were  arrayed  in  hats  and 
gloves,  as  if  they  were  ready  to  start.  He  was  no  little 
annoyed  when  he  saw  that  the  servant  girl  who  cleaned  up 
his  room  was  decked  out  in  colors  gay  to  go  to  church  in 
the  presence  of  a  young  lady  with  whom  he  especially 
desired  to  go  alone.  His  face  must  have  betrayed  him. 
because  on  glancing  toward  his  eyes  Rosa  came  forward 
alone,  and  said  in  a  low  tone  of  voice : 

''I  could  not  "help  it — aunt  S^dvester  insisted  on  her 
going." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  carrying  out  your  word,""  he  said, 
with  a  satirical  smile,  "  about  not  going  unless  you  carried 
the  rest  with  you.  Why  didn't  you  call  in  the  neighbors  to 
go  with  us  ?'" 

"That's  downright  mean,  Mr.  Metcalf!"  she  exclaimed 
hotly.  "  Aunt  Sylvester  said  she  must  go  with  us;  what 
could  I  do  ?" 


8  THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    (4RKYST0NB  LODGE 

Charlie  liked  the  iiiiieiiuous,  sweet,  dark-eyed,  graceful 
girl  beside  him,  so  he  visited  a  mental  blessing  upon  Mrs. 
Sylvester's  gaucheries. 

"  Well,  nevef  mind  now,''  he  said  smiling,  as  they 
moved  off,  followed  by  Julia  and  the  maid  of  all  work. 

Metcalf  said  but  little  going  to  church,  and  the  ladies 
w^ere  quiet.  The  servant  girl  had  a  most  uncomfortable 
feeling,  because  she  felt  that  she  had  thrown  a  wet  blanket 
over  the  spirits  of  the  party. 

On  reaching  church,  Charlie  looked  in  and  saw  that 
the  benches  were  crowded.  One  of  the  ushers,  however, 
came  forward  and  conducted  them  up  the  aisle.  Arriving  at 
the  centre  of  the  building.  Miss  Rosa  and  Jidia  were  ushered 
into  a  seat  on  the  right ;  whilst  the  servant  girl  was  placed 
in  one  on  the  left,  from  which  a  gentleman  rose. 

"  Take  a  seat,  sir,"  he  said,  as  he  noticed  Metcalf 
moving  off. 

"I  could  not  think  of  disturljing  you,"  replied  Charlie, 
not  desiring  to  state  that  she  was  a  servant. 

"•  But  pray  do,"  urged  he,  in  n  whisper.  "  I  can  pro- 
cure one  anywhere." 

"  So  can  I,"  said  Metcalf,  trying  to  withdraw  liis  arm 
from  the  clasp  of  the  strangei-. 

''  But,"  again  urged  the  man,  "  I  hate  to  separate  a 
fellow  from  his  girl." 

Metcalf  for  an  instant  felt  inclined  to  knock  the  fellow 
down. 

"  She  is  no  girl  of  mine — she  is  Mrs.  Sylvester's  maid," 
he  uttered  in  a  tone,  which  caused  several  of  the  people 
sitting  around  to  look  askance  at  him. 

Just  then  he  caught  Rosa's  eyes  turned  upon  him.  He 
felt  that  she  was,  in  a  measure,  the  cause  of  his  dilemma, 
and  yet  she  looked  as  if  she  enjoyed  his  discomfiture.  At 
that  moment  he  desired  to  pummel  the  chap's  head  who 
insisted  upon  his  sitting  by  Mary  Kyle,  and  pull  Rosa's  ears 
for  enjoying  his  misery. 


THAT  BIIUISIN     LAD  0     GREYSTONE  LODGE.  9 

After  church  lie  waited  at  the  door  until  the  girls  came 
out.  Julia  was  in  front,  and  as  she  paused  AVillie  Archer 
stepped  up  and  said  : 

"  Allow  me  to  see  you  home." 

Metcalf  smiled  as  he  caught  her  glance.  Her  face  fell 
and  she  seemed  almost  ready  to  cry — all  the  same  Archer 
hung  on,  and  j)laeed  her  hand  within  his  arm.  For  a 
moment  she  attempted  to  hold  back,  but  the  cruel  crowd, 
which  had  no  time  to  inquire  into  her  ])ersonal  likes  or  dis- 
likes pressed  her  onward. 

Rosa's  face  had  a  roguish  smile  upon  it  as  she  took  his 
arm,  which  by  no  means  soothed  him. 

"  You  treated  me  shamefully  I"  exclaimed  he,  as  soon 
as  they  were  outside. 

"  You  looked  so  funny  and  ridicuhjus  .standing  in  the 
aisle  there,"  she  laughed,  "  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"  Yes,  you  could  help  it,"  he  retorted,  in  an  angry 
tone. 

"How  could  I?"  she  demanded,  opening  her  eyes 
wide  at  him.  "  You  know  how  angry  aunt  Sylvester  would 
have  been  had  w^e  retiised  to  take  Mary  with  us." 

'•  You  could  have  gone  w^ith  me  alone — you  could  have 
said  that  you  had  an  engagement,"  he  went  on  in  a  com- 
plaining tone. 

"  But  I  did  not  like  to  leave  Julia  alone — it  would  have 
looked  so  selfish  in  me.     I — " 

"  Oh,  the  next  time  you  go,"  he  interru})ted,  ironically, 
"take  all  the  neighborhood  with  you — send  around  and  see 
who  are  left  behind,  and  invite  them." 

"•  If  you  don't  stop  quarreling  I  will  not  go  with  you 
any  more,"  she  said  in  a  mock  angry  voice,  at  the  same 
time  giving  his  arm  a  slight  pressure. 

"  x^ow,  here  comes  that  cub  with  Miss  Julia,  right  at 
our  heels,"  he  growled  in  a  low  tone  of  voice. 

"  They  are  directly  behind  us — hush-st,"  she  muttered 
softlv. 


10  THAT  BRUISIN'    I-AD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

Charlie  tmd  his  companion  purs)ied  their  way  in  silence^ 
whilst  Archer  attempted  to  make  Julia  enter  into  conversa- 
tion with  him. 

"  Been  a  pleasant  evening,  Miss  Julia." 

"Yes." 

"  A  laro:e  attendance  at  church,"  he  went  on, 

"Yes." 

"  Mr.  Yates  preached  a  good  sermon." 

"Yes." 

"  The  singing  was  charming,"  he  ventured. 

"No." 

Archer  began  to  despair.  He  scratched  his  ear  witli 
his  disengaged  hand  as  if  that  would  enable  him  to  cogitate 
some  subject  upon  which  she  might  say  something  more 
than  yes  or  no.  Finding  he  could  not  think  of  any,  he  deter- 
mined to  question  her  so  that  she  would  be  obliged  to  answer. 

"  Miss  Julia,  have  you  a  preference  for  any  kind  of 
flowers  ?"  he  asked,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  brow. 

"No."- 

"  Which  do  you  like  best  ?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Bo  you  like  geraniums  best  ?" 

"No." 

"  Do  you  like  roses  best  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Didn't  you  tell  Miss  Laura  Bassett  that  you  liked 
roses  the  best  ?  "  he  asked,  thinking  he  had  her  now. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  how  can  you  say  you  do  not  like  them  the 
best?"  he  demanded,  with  a  triumphant  ring  in  his  voice. 

"  Can't  say." 

"  Miss  Julia,  what  can  you  say  ? "  he  inquired  in  a 
plaintive  tone,  as  if  in  despair. 

"  Nothing,"  she  said  dryly. 

Metcalf  laughed  softly  to  himself  aS  they  entered  the 
front  veraufln.        He  felt  sorry  for  Archer,    yet  half  wav 


THAT  HRUISIN'    LAI>  o'    (JREYSTONE  LODGE.  11 

vexed  at  his  pursuing  a  girl  who  so  plainly  showed  that  his 
presence  was  obnoxious  to  her. 

"■  Good  evening,"  said  Mr.  Archer,  as  he  turned  to 
leave,  after  seeing  Julia  vanish  through  the  front  door. 

"  Would  you  let  any  girl  treat  you  so  ?  "  asked  Rosa, 
looking  down  upon  Metcalf  s  well-shaped,  manly,  but  not 
handsome  face,  as  she  stood  upon  the  stairway  about  to 
ascend  to  her  room. 

"  "Would  I?  "  he  asked,  looking  up  at  her. 

"  That  you  wouldn't  ? "  she  exclaimed  softly. 

"  I  take  a  lot  from  you,  though,"  he  said,  lowering  his 
voice,  and  em])lia8izing  the  you  in  the  manner  unmis- 
takable. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  uttered,  as  the  color  rushed  to  her  cheeks, 
and  she  turned  to  mount  the  steps. 


C.'II AFTER  II. 

"  Girls,  you  are  disgracefully  late !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
John,  as  she  opened  the  dining-room  door  the  following 
morning,  while  the  young  ladies  were  at  their  ten  o'clock 
breakfast.  "  Julia,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself 
for  allowing  that  Willie  Archer  to  come  home  from  church 
with  you." 

Mrs.  Sylvester  was  in  one  of  her  grand  moods.  She 
used  the  adjective  "  grand,"  to  describe  everything  from  the 
Xiagara  Falls,  to  an  ordituxry  dinner.  Being  very  large, 
l)hysically,  she  thought  she  was  equally  as  large  mentally. 
Standing  in  the  door-way,  majestically  looking  down  upon 
J  ulia,  she  meant  to  be  very  impressive,  and  read  the  girl 
what  she  would  call  a  "  grand  lecture." 

"  I  didn't  allow  him  to  come  with  me,"  said  she,  looking 
up  in  a  surprised  manner.     "  He  just  came  anyhow." 


12  THAT  BRUISIn'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  Tut-tut !  "  sneered  Mrs.  Sylvester,  advancing  nearer 
to  the  table.  "  You  need  not  tell  me  yon  could  not  prevent 
his  coming  if  you  did  not  want  him." 

"  I  could  not,  though,"  replied  she. 

"  No,  aunt  Sylvester,  she  couldn't,"  spoke  up  Rosa. 

"  And  pray.  Miss,  how  do  yon  knoAv  ?  "  demanded  her 
aunt. 

"  Because  1  was  with  Julia  all  day  yesterdaj — when 
Will  Archer  was  around,"  said  her  neice.  "  In  the  after- 
noon she  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  him;  refused 
to  go  to  church  with  him,  and  he  forced  himself  on  her  last 
night." 

"  And  I  wouldn't  even  talk  with  him  coming  back." 
said  Julia. 

"  Then  if  you  cannot  stoyj  him  I  can,"  asserted  Mrs. 
John,  bringing  her  foot  down  upon  the  floor.  "  ^'ou  let 
me  know  the  next  time  he  comes.'" 

''  Mama,"  said  she,  looking  quietty  at  her,  "  I  don't 
like  the  young  man,  therefore  I  shall  not  receive  him.  But 
outside  of  that,  what  are  your  objections  to  him  ?" 

"He  ain't  nothing,"  answered  Mrs.  John,  forgetting  her 
grammar  in  the  midst  of  her  excitement.  '-He  is  nothing 
but  a  carpenter.  I'^gh !  the  idea  of  my  daughter  keeping 
company  with  him." 

"  But,  mama,"  she  said,  "  how  can  you  deem  that  objec- 
tionable, since  your  two  brothers  are  carpenters,  and  pa  used 
to  work  at  the  trade.'' 

Mrs.  John  was  almost  stunned  for  the  moment.  To  be 
reminded  of  those  things  by  anyone  was  bad  enough;  but 
to  be  informed  so  by  her  own  daughter,  whom  she  was 
endeavoring  to  advance  in  the  best  society,  was  unpardon- 
able. 

"  You  ungrateful  little  thing!"  she  exclaimed,  gesticu- 
lating with  her  right  hand,  by  way  of  emphasis.  "  How 
badly  you  treat  your  mother !  I  have  been  doing  all  in  my 
power  to  raise  you  properly — to  elevate  you  into  the  best 


THAT  BRriSlx'    T.AD  o'    GRKVSTONE  LODOE.  18 

.society — to  place  you  anion<^  the  nicest  peojtle.  And  then — 
tor  you  to  throw  those  disji^ustint''  reniemlDrances  in  my  lace, 
is  a  shame — an  awful  shame  !" 

"Mama,"  asked  the  girl,  looking  her  full  in  the  face 
without  (juailing,  '•  is  it  a  shame — not  to  be  ashamed  of 
your  relations  who  earn  their  living  by  honest  labor?" 

For  a  moment  her  mother  seemed  astonished.  She 
liad  never  been  answered  back  by  her  daughter  before  in 
her  life  ;  to  be  answered  now  in  this  kind  of  unanswerable 
manner  almost  took  her  breath  away. 

••  Mama,"  went  on  her  daughter  before  Mrs.  John  coukl 
fully  recover  herself,  "  T  want  to  say  this  too  ;  if  I  liked  Mr. 
Archer,  I  should  not  think  less  of  him  because  he  worked." 

"Do  you  mean  to  dety  me — do  you" — 

Here  she  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  servant, 
who  informed  her  that  some  one  waited  in  the  parlor  to  see 
her. 

••  My  patience  I "'  she  muttered  angrily,  "  somebody 
always  comes  at  the  wrong  time.  Do  you  know  whom  it 
is  ?  "' 

"  No  ma'am,"  answered  Mary  "  the  man  is  a  stranger." 

''  Tell  him  I'll  be  there  in  a  moment,"  she  said,  as  she 
rushefl  off  to  arrange  her  hair  and  recover  her  mental 
equilibrium. 

Mrs.  John  used  every  means  in  her  power  to  smooth 
away  all  traces  of  her  disturbed  state  of  mind,  while  she 
brushed  out  her  hair,  and  placed  here  and  there  such  extra 
touches  as  she  deemed  most  likely  to  enhance  her  personal 
appearance.  After  finishing  to  her  satisfaction  she  walked 
towards  the  parlor. 

"  I  am  really  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Sylvester,"  said  a 
young  man,  rising  from  his  chair  with  easy,  graceful  man- 
ners. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Gordon  !  "  .she  exclaimed:  ''  where  did  you 
come  from  ?  " 

"  I  came  from  Lassiter  here,  seeking  a  rest,"  he  replied. 


14  THAT  nurisrx'  lad  o"  (jrkvstone  i.oixiK 

"  I  came  up  to  see  if  you  could  give  a  way-farer  a  room  for 
a  while.'' 

"  That  I  can,"  she  answered  heartily.  "  T  will  jjive  you 
my  own  front  room."' 

"  But  I  would  not  liave  you  to  incommode  yourself," 
he  said. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  she  laughed,  "  1  am  accustomed  to  changing 
around  at  short  notice.     When  will  you  wish  to  come  ?" 

"  I  would  like  to  come  at  once,"  he  answered,  "  I  am 
at  the  hotel,  and  you  know  how  uncomfortable  that  kind  of 
life  is." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  she  said.  "  Well,  you  may  send  your 
things  up  this  evening,  and  I  will  endeavor  to  put  you  away 
to-night.     How  well  you  are  looking,  if  I  may  say  so." 

"  I  have  no  objection,"  he  laughed,  rising.  ''I  will 
return  about  seven  o'clock." 

''  I  will  expect  you  then,"  she  said,  watching  him  as  he 
moved  out  of  the  parlor,  through  the  hall  into  the  front 
piazza. 

Curiosity  is  a  trait  of  character  which  adorns  both 
sexes  alike.  As  Frank  Gordon  passed  through  the  hall, 
three  pairs  of  eyes  followed  him  eagerly — Rosa's  and  Julia's 
from  behind  the  curtains  at  the  lower  end  of  the  hall,  and 
Metcalf 's  from  a  crack  in  his  door.  They  all  saw  a  man  of 
medium  height,  with  waving  brown  hair,  a  massive  brow, 
and  eyes  so  deeply  set  they  appeared  almost  sunken  ;  well- 
shaped  jaw-bones,  coming  to  a  point  at  the  chin  like  the 
rounded  prow  of  a  cutter;  a  graceful,  well-knit  figure, 
i'rrayed  in  dark  clothes,  which  fitted  him  well.  He  was 
scarcely  out  of  ear-shot  before  he  was  being  discussed  by 
both  girls. 

"I  have  seen  him  somewhere,"  said  Julia. 

"T  like  his  face,"  smiled  the  other. 

"Hasn't  he  a  nice  figure? '"  asked  Julia.  "And  I  like 
the  shape  of  his  head." 

"  Speaking  of  heads,"  replied  Rosa,  laying  her  cheek 


THAT  BRLISIN'  LAI)  o'  GREYSTOXE  LODGE.  lo 

against  her  hand  on  the  curtain,  "  Mr.  Metcalf  s  l)eat8  them 
all.  He  has  the  finest  shaped  brow  I  ever  saw,  and  such 
lovely  chestnut  hair." 

"But.  Rosa,"  laughed  Julia,  "  he  is  so  dried-up 
looking.     Tie  reminds  me  of  some  Egyptian  mummy." 

"  Ain't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,"  said  Rosa. 

"  Why,  certainly  not ;  he  is  not  half  so  good-looking  as 
the  last  gentleman,  I  like  good-looking  men  ;  and  that  is 
one  reason  I  dislike  Will  Archer.     lie  is  sinfully  ugly." 

"•  Oh,  Julia  !"  exclaimed  Rosa,  "  what  strong  expres- 
sions you  use.  But  speaking  of  looks  :  as  to  gentlemen,  I 
don't  think  they  amount  to  much.  Of  course,  no  one  likes 
to  look  at  an  ugly  man,  but  deliver  me  from  one  of  your  wax 
doll  beauties  in  the  shape  of  a  gentleman.  I  love  a  manly 
face — an  expressive  thoughtful  face  ! — a  face  that  strikes 
you  as  the  external  covering  of  an  internal  governing, 
decided  mind." 

"  I  was  always  a  little  afraid  of  those  kind  of  faces,'" 
said  Julia. 

"•  Why  y  "  asked  the  other,  with  a  wondering  look  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  they  always  look  so  ruling  and  commanding," 
she  answered,  raising  her  retrousee  little  nose  a  trifle  higher. 

''  W^ouldn't  you  like  to  be  ruled  by  some  strong  man  ?  " 
inquired  Rosa,  softly. 

"  Depends  upon  the  man/'  replied  she. 

"  Well,  I  would,"  said  Rosa,  raising  her  head  and  look- 
ing dreamily  away. 

"  But  you  know  you  always  had  (jueer  notions,'* 
laughed  Julia.  "  And  you  make  them  doubly  curious  by 
your  mode  of  expression.  What  girl  seventeen  years  old 
except  yourself  would  speak  of  the  external  and 
internal  parts  of  a  man's  head  ?  JS'ow  the  majority  of  girls 
would  rather  see  a  head  good  looking,  but  that  is  as  far  as 
they  generally  inquire." 


16  THAT  briisin'  i,ai)  o'  (jkkystoxe  lodge. 

''  Then  I  am  sadly  in  the  minority,"  said  Rosa,  in  a 
mock,  plaintive  kind  of  voice. 

"  Of  course  you  are,  my  dear,""  saiJ-eiy  remarked  Julia 
as  she  walked  into  the  dining-room. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Metcalf!"  exclaimed  Kosa,  "you  almost 
frightened  me,'*  as  he  thi'ust  his  head  suddenly  hehind  the 
curtains. 

"  I  shouldn't  think  I  could  frighten  such  a  philosopher," 
lie  replied,  with  a  look  of  decided  admiration  directed 
towards  her.  ''  I  heard  you  discussing  heads  just  now  and 
I  like  your  ideas." 

"You  are  making  fun  of  me,'"  she  said. 

"  You  are  making  an.  awfully  pretty  picture  looking 
through  those  curtains  in  that  way,"  he  said,  as  she  stood 
just  between  them  with  a  hand  On  each  one,  holding  them 
at  the  sides  of  her  exquisitely  shaped  head. 

"  Hush  up  !  "  she  exclaimed,  playfully  drawing  the 
curtains  in  front  of  her  face  and  taking  them  back  as 
suddenly.  "  You  can't  make  me  believe,  Mr.  Metcalf,  that 
you  think  all  of  those  things  about  me.  But  here,  sir  ! 
what  do  you  mean  by  listening  to  a  conversation  which  was 
not  intended  for  you  ?  "  and  her  face  assumed  a  severely 
reproving  look. 

"  I  stand  convicted,"  smiled  he.  '•'•  1  cannot  plead  not 
guilty,  but  I  am  sure  that  I  can  tile  a  special  plea  of  justifi- 
cation, which  ought  at  least  to  mitigate  the  rigor  of  your 
judgment." 

"Plead  on,  and  if  you  give  me  a  good  explanation  I 
will  lessen  the  [mnishment,"  she  said. 

"  I  was  looking  at  the  gentleman  as  he  passed  out," 
})roceedcd  he,  "  and  after  hearing  the  sound  of  his  footsteps 
die  away,  I  heard  voices  at  this  end  of  the  hall.  Some  one 
mentioned  '  Mr.  Metcalf 's  head.'  Wasn't  it  natural  I  should 
listen  then  ?  The  thoughts  expressed  came  from  the  lips  of 
a  maiden  of  only  seventeen  years — thoughts  which  would 
have  reflected  credit  upon   a  much  older  and  more  experi- 


THAT   DKUISIN"    LAD  O'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  17 

enced  Lead.     Wasn't  it  natural  I  should  listen  on  ?     Now 
can   you  punish  mo  very  severely  ?  " 

The  earnestness  of  his  tone,  the  seriousness  of  his 
glance,  dispelled  any  idea  from  her  mind  that  he  was  flat- 
tering her. 

"  As  a  matter  of  justice  maybe  you  ought  to  be  pun- 
ished just  a  little,"  said  she,  in  a  gentle  voice.  "But  I  feel 
somehow  as  if  I  didn't  wish  to." 

"  You  know  what  that  feeling  is,  don't  you? "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  an  idea,"  she  answered,  "  but  I  cannot  exactly 
clothe  it  in  language." 

"  That  is  tempering  mercy  with  justice,"  he  remarked. 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  she  asserted.  "  But  just  there  lies 
the  difference  between  small  and  great  minds.  Most  of  us 
have  ideas  on  subjects  which  we  cannot  express.  We  think 
them  so  easily  ;  to  give  them  to  others  in  living  thoughts 
and  truths  is  so  different.  Some  greater  mind  comes  along 
and  instantaneously  gives  them  expression  in  language,  the 
truth  and  force  of  which  flashes  across  our  mental  world 
with  as  vivid  a  light  as  if  we  had  uttered  them  ourselves. 
Yours  is  the  greater  mind,  Mr.  Metcalf." 

"  You  flatter  me,''  he  said,  bowing. 

"  Here  comes  aunt  Sylvester,"  said  she.  "  I  know  she 
will  want  Julia  and  I  to  assist  her  in  fixing  a  room  for  that 
handsome  new-comer." 

"  Who  is  he?''  inquired  Metcalf. 

'■  I  have  no  idea,"  she  returned.  "  Julia  said  that  his 
face  was  familiar  to  her,  but  she  could  not  recall  his  name  " 

"  Why,  Rosa,"  said  Mrs.  John  coming  up,  all  traces  of 
her  recent  ill-humor  having  disappeared,  "I  want  you  and 
Julia  to  assist  me  in  arranging  a  room  for  the  gentleman 
who  was  here  a  moment  ago.     He  wants  to  come  at  once." 

"  Who  is  the  gentleman,  mama  ?"  asked  Julia,  coming 
from  the  dining-room. 

"  You  ought  to  know  him  ;   it  is  Mr.  Frank  Gordon," 


18  THAT   URULSIiN'   LAD  o'  (iKIiYSTONE  LODGE. 

she  answered.  "  JJon't  you  recollect  that  he  used  to  visit  our 
house  with  Johnny  Porter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  the  girl.  "  I  do  remember  him 
now.  You  know,  Kosa,  I  told  you  I  thouglit  I  recollected 
having  seen  him.  He  is  so  jolly  and  nice  !  We  will  have 
everything  ready  for  him." 

"  Gordon — Gordon,"  muttered  Charlie,  as  if  soliloquiz- 
ing to  himself,  "  I  know  that  name.  1  wonder  if  he  is 
from  Weston  county  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  answered  Mrs.  John. 

"  Then  I  know  him,"  said  he. 

"  Does  he  come  from  nice  people  ?  "  asked  she,  with  an 
important  air. 

"  I  should  say  so  !"  he  replied,  in  an  emphatic  manner. 

There  was  a  general  break-up  of  the  party  as  Mrs. 
John  and  the  young  ladies  went  off  to  attend  to  their  duties 
and  Metcalf  to  his  disciplinary  reading,  as  he  usually 
termed  a  morning  hour  given  to  Gibbon  and  Macauly. 

But  for  some  reason  he  could  not  concentrate  his  atten- 
tion to  the  subject  in  hand.  The  members  of  the  Prjetorian 
Guard  as  well  as  the  forms  of  the  lioman  Emperors  would 
resolve  theijiselves  into  various  shapes,  which  he  imagined 
Frank  Gordon  had  taken  since  he  last  saw  him.  Metcalf 
knew  now  that  he  was  the  same  brown-eyed  lad  who  used 
to  visit  his  brother  and  himself  in  Weston.  Thinking  of 
the  young  man  conjured  up  all  kinds  of  childhood  and 
boyhood  associations.  Finding  that  he  could  not  devote 
himself  to  his  mental  work  he  threw  aside  his  book  and 
went  for  a  walk. 

Returning  after  dinner  to  INIrs.  fFohn's,  on  coming  in 
sight  of  the  house,  he  saw  a  gentleman  approaching  in  a 
leisurely  kind  of  way.  Ilis  walk  appeared  familiar,  and  on 
Hearing  the  front  gate,  he  looked  toward  Metcalf.  Resting 
his  right  hand  upon  the  paling,  he  waited  until  Charlie 
came  up. 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  l!) 

"  Metcalf,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked,  extend- 
ing his  hand. 

"  I  have  only  been  here  a  few  weeks,"  said  Charlie, 
grasping  his  warmly.  "  I  thought  you  were  the  Frank 
Gordon  of  old  Weston  days  when  I  heard  yonr  name 
called  this  morning." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  smiling,  "  I  am  the  same  ;  do  you 
remember  when  I  used  to  come  to  see  you  and  j'our 
brother  ?  Don't  you  recollect  the  black  pony  called  Monkey, 
which  all  three  of  us  rode  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  answered  Charlie,  fervently  ;  "  I  have  gone 
over  my  whole  life  since  you  were  here  this  morning." 

"  I  suppose  my  coming  suggested  it,"  he  said  in  a 
sympathetic  ^'oice.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  know  that  I  am 
domiciled  with  you ;  everything  will  not  appear  so  strange 
now." 

"  No,"  replied  Charlie,  "  there  will  be  much  in  common 
between  us  in  this  queer  place.  Come  with  me  now  to  my 
quarters  and  make  yourself  at  home  until  your  room  is 
ready  for  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  smiled,  as  he  followed  Charlie  into 
the  house. 

They  went  at  once  to  Metcalf 's  room  and  were  soon 
comfortably  seated,  smoking  their  cigarettes. 

"  Do  you  expect  to  practice  your  profession  here  ?  " 
asked  Charlie. 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  he  answered,  "  I  am  now  on  a 
kind  of  vacation ;  you  see,  I  have  been  attorney  for  a 
mining  district  out  in  the  far  West  and  expect  to  return 
there.  I  believe  you  ply  the  same  craft  that  I  do  for  your 
bread  and  butter." 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  lawyer,  too,"  answered  Charlie,  thought- 
fully ;  "  and,  strange  to  say,  I  too  have  charge  of  a  mining 
district  in  the  state  of  Ohio,  and  am  having  a  holiday  also." 

"  Why,  isn't  that  strange  ?  "   asked  the  other,  taking 


20  THAT  URUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE 

his  cigarette  from  his  montli   and   looking   at  Metcalf  in  a 
wondering  manner, 

"  It  is  rather  queer,  I  must  confess,"  returned  the  other. 

"  Tell  me  something  about  my  co-tenants  here  with 
me!"  demanded  Gordon,  placing  his  feet  against  the 
window-sill  ;  "  you  have  been  installed  long  enough  to  tind 
out  something  about  them." 

"  Well — you  know  ma  Sylvester,"  said  the  other. 

"  Yes  I  know  her,"  he  smiled.  "  I  fancy  it  doesn't  take 
one  long  to  size  her  up.  Fair,  fat,  and  near  forty,  as  to 
personal  appearances ;  very  aristocratic  without  possessing 
a  single  attribute  which  makes  aristocracy  except 
some  money  ;  rather  loud  and  parvenu,  albeit  good  hearted 
and  genial ;  can't  converse  without  drawing  the  subject  of 
conversation  and  all  present  to  lierself ;  a  person  for  all 
the  external  splendor  possible,  yet  counting  the  cost  accur- 
ately." 

"  I  think  you  have  read  her  well,"  laughed  Charlie,  as 
he  threw  away  his  cigarette.  "  You'll] fancy  pa  Sylvester — 
not  very  clever,  but  with  a  keen  eye  to  the  main  chance, 
not  to  be  despised.  He  is  a  plain  man,  and  his  ways  are 
correspondingly  plain.  Nothing  stuck  up  about  him  !  He 
has  a  high  opinion  of  ma  Sylvester,  deferring  to  her  in 
most  things.  Devotedly  attached  to  his  daughter.  For  th'; 
rest  he  goes  to  his  work  regularly  ;  eats  his  three  meals  a 
day  and  beyond  that  his  existence  and  identity  are  com- 
pletely swallowed  up  in  ma  Sylvester." 

"  Then  I  suppose  with  the  exception  of  reversing 
matters  a  little,"  laughed  Gordon,  "  their  life  is  a  true 
exposition  of  matrimony  as  contemplated  by  law.  Pa  Syl- 
vester is  merged  into  ma  Sylvester  and  they  are  truly  one." 

"  That's  just  about  it,"  laughed  Metcalf,  softly.  "  We 
see  this  reversed  order  of  things  very  often  in  the  married 
state  and  it  seems  to  work  as  w^ell  as  any." 

"  Well,  who  else  have  we  ?  "  inquired  Frank. 

"  Ma  Sylvester's  daughter   and   ma  Sylvester's  neice; 


TiiAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  oreystone  lodge.  21 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Herbert,"  went  on  Charlie.  "  As  to  the 
young  ladies,  they  are  nice,  sweet  and  attractive  girls ;  I 
have  nothing  at  present  to  say  concerning  their  looks. 
Beauty  is  so  much  a  matter  of  individual  expression  and 
taste  that  I  shall  leave  you  to  form  your  own  opinion.  Of 
Mr.  Herbert  and  wife,  I  know  very  little,  but  I  am  sure  he 
is  everything  a  northerner  could  be  who  is  close.  It  is  said 
of  Mrs.  Herbert  that  she  iiiarried  him  to  spite  a  recreant 
lover.  I  do  not  desire  to  detract  from  Mrs.  H's  many 
attractions,  but-I  am  inclined  to  l)elieve  that  she  got  the 
worst  of  the  bargain  in  every  way. 

"  So  that  finishes  them  up,"  said  Gordon,  smiling. 

"  All  except  ourselves,"  returned  Cluirlie,  lighting  a 
cigarette. 

"  Metcalf,  where  do  you  take  3'our  meals  ?  "  inquired 
the  other. 

"  At  the  Langdon  House,"  he  replied.  "  If  you  have 
not  engaged  yours  elsewhere  come  with  me ;  you  can 
scarcely  do  better  in  this  place  as  to  menu  or  associates." 

"  This  is  a  rather  cosmopolitan  place  anyway — isn't 
it?"  asked  Gordon. 

"  Most  decidedly  so,"  returned  Charlie.  "  You  meet 
all  classes  of  people  here,  from  the  most  respectable  swell 
to  the  brawny  mechanic.  Dudes  flourish  indigenously  ; 
society  is  composed  of  a  gathering  of  all  those  people  who 
have  money  from- the  heterogeneous  mass  of  inhabitants  at 
large.  The  people  are  none  the  less  interesting  on  account 
of  their  variety  and  present  an  admirable  opportunity  for 
the  study  of  human  nature." 

"  Metcalf,  you  always  had  a  talent  for  sawing  people 
up,"  laughed  Gordon  as  he  rose  from  his  seat.  "  I  shall  go 
now  and  look  after  my  traps." 


22  THAT  huuisin'  lad  u'  greystone  lodce. 

CHAPTER  III. 

It  was  a  lovely  evenino;  in  May,  some  ten  days  after 
Gordon's  arrival  that  ma  Sylvester  and  pa  Sylvester  were 
sitting  in  the  front  ])iazza,  enjoying  the  delights  of  their  own 
vine  and  fig  tree  and  a  matrimonial  dialogue, 

"  Mr.  Sylvester,"  she  said,  "  I  think  Julia  should  he 
sent  to  sciiool  again.  I  let  her  stop  hecause  she  coni[tlained 
of  being  sick,  but  I  am  sure  I  made  a  mistake;  she  was 
very  rude  to  me  the  other  day  and  I  can  do  nothing  \\ith 
her ;  I  want  you  to  tell  her  that  she  must  start  again." 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  he  said.  "  You  are  right.  I  am 
surprised  at  her  l)eing  rude  to  you  ;    what  was  it  about  ?  " 

"  I  objected  to  her  receiving  beaux,  and  she  was  very 
defiant,"  she  said. 

'•She's  certainly  too  young  for  that  I"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Her  head  will  be  turned." 

"  That  Mr.  Gordon  has  been  with  her  a  good  deal 
latelj',"  said  she  ;  "I  heard  that  he  was  very  poor.  That 
must  be  stopped,  or  she  will  be  entangled  in  some  way  with 
him.  Did  you  ever  find  out  anything  about  ^Mr.  Metcalf  ? 
I  like  him."*^ 

"  I  tried  to,"  he  replied,  "  but  could  not.  I  know 
of  his  family  and  they  are  nice  people,  but  for  some  reason 
which  no  one  can  account  for  he  is  entirely  cut  off  from 
them." 

"  Did  you  hear  the  reason  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  I  have  just  said  that  no  one  seemed  to  know,"  he 
answered. 

"  I  bet  3'ou  anything  he  has  done  something  he  ought 
not  to,"  she  said,  in  a  very  positive  Avay. 

"  I  expect  you  are  right,"  he  assented. 

"  Of  course,  if  they  had  money  it  would  be  all  right," 
she  went  on,  "  but  they  are  evidently  poor,  and  our  position 
in  society  should  make  us  very  careful  as  to  whom  we  have 
as  associates.  Seeing  these  young  men  with  us,  people 
would  naturally  suppose  they  are  right  in  every  sense.      I 


THAT  BHUISIN'    LAD  o'    (iREYSTONE  LODGE.  23 

sboiiltl  dislike  very  much  to  have  either  one  to  turn  out 
otherwise  than  he  ought  to.  Did  you  ever  notice  with  what 
contempt  Mr.  Gordon  speaks  of  the  people  around  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  he  answered.  "  But  that  man  is  a  good 
judge  of  character  ;  I  have  never  yet  heard  him — " 

"  St — hush,"  hissed  Mrs.  Sylvester,  "here  comes  Mr. 
Metcalf  now.     I  suppose  he  is  going  to  his  tea." 

"  Won't  you  have  a  seat,  Mr.  Metcalf?  "  asked  ma  Syl- 
vester, in  her  sweetest  tone. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  am  going  for  my  tea.  Have  you 
seen  Gordon  anywhere  ?  " 

"  He  went  with  Julia  to  the  practicing  this  evening," 
she  said. 

"  Oh — he  did,"  muttered  Charlie. 

"  Have  3'ou  any  objection,  Mr.  Metcalf?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Who,  I  ? — why  do  you  ask  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Because,  your  reply  sounded  that  way,"  she  said,  in 
an  olfended  tone. 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  your  imagination,"  he  laughed.  "  I 
am  not  Mr.  Gordon's  keeper." 

"  Does  he  need  one  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Xot  at  present,"  he  answered,  significantly,  as  he 
moved  down  the  steps. 

In  the  meantime j  the  subject  of  this  conversation  was 
slowly  wending  his  way  with  Julia  to  the  hall,  known  as  the 
opera  house.  They  were  chatting  very  pleasantly  as  they 
threaded  their  way  through  the  thickly-crowded  street, 
oblivious  to  all  around. 

"I  always  hate  to  walk  on  this  street,"  said  she  ;  "  there 
is  always  such  y  crowd." 

"  They  won't  hurt  you,"  laughed  Gordon  ;  "  I  will 
take  care  of  you.  What  a  curious  lot  of  people  you  have 
here,  anyway." 

"  Shut  up,  Mr.  Gordon  !  "  she  exclaimed,  laughing. 
"  You  are  always  abusing  our  people." 


24  THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  O'    GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  Oh,  110  !  "  he  said,  "  don't  cull  it  abuse  ;  cull  it  criti- 
cism." 

"  Well,  then,  criticising  them,"  she  said,  mocking  him  ; 
"  at  any  rate,  you  are  always  poking  fun  at  them." 

"  No — I  poke  the  fun  at  you." 

"  About  them,"  she  corrected;  "you  are  so  precise," 
she  said,  petulantly,  "  I  am  almost  afraid  to  speak." 

''  Miss  Julia,  do  you  believe  your  party  can  get  through 
with  Pinafore?"  he  asked. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  believe  you  liave  musical  talent 
enough  in  this  place  to  sing  Pinafore,"  he  replied,  smiling. 
"  People  must  have  a  certain  amount  of  education  in  order 
to  act  and  sing  an  opera  of  that  sort  properly." 

"  Mr.  Gordon,  you  are  shockingly  rude !  "  she 
exclaimed,  almost  pausing  as  they  were  about  to  ascend  the 
stair-way  of  the  hall ;  "  do  you  suppose  all  the  people  are 
ignoramuses  in  this  city?  I  thank  you,  I  don't  consider 
myself  one." 

"  I  wasn't  alluding  to  you,  and  you  know  it,"  spoke 
Gordon,  in  a  decided  tone.  "  I  know  you  can  sing — can 
act  almost  anything,  but  I  doubt  the  success  of  your  opera." 

"  You  would  doubt  the  Lord's  Prayer — doubt  anything, 
Mr.  Gordon,"  she  said,  shrugging  her  shoulders. 

"  I  can  tell  you  one  thing  I  don't  doubt,"  he  almost 
whispered,  as  they  stood  by  the  door  before  entering,  "  that 
is  you." 

"  Mr.  Gordon,  how  dare  you  make  fun  of  me?"  she 
uttered,  as  the  color  swept  over  her  face. 

"  There  it  is  again  !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  an  irritated  tone. 
"  I  cannot  give  an  honest  expression  of  an  opinion  concern- 
ing you  without  your  ridiculing  it ;"  and  his  face  wore  an 
angry  expression  as  they  entered. 

Gordon  was  becoming  interested  in  this  untutored 
maiden  of  seventeen ;  her  thoughtful,  sweet,  winsome  little 
ways  interested  him  no  less  than  her  brusque  way  of  pooh- 


THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  oreystone  lodge.  25 

pooliing  everything  of  a  personal  nature  he  said  to  her 
aggravated  him.  Slie  laughed  at  his  soft  phrases  uttered 
to  her,  tip-tilted  her  little  nose  at  his  compliments  and 
shrugged  her  shoulders  with  contempt  when  he  upbraided 
her  disbelief.  Gordon  had  been  accustomed  to  the  fair  sex 
giving  him  a  willing  ear  when  he  chose  to  descant  on  softer 
matters,  yet  this  one  showed  not  only  impatience  but  ridi- 
cule whenever  he  directed  the  conversation  in  a  personal 
channel. 

On  taking  bis  seat  in  front  of  the  stage,  he  commenced 
to  listen  to  the  leader  trying  to  teach  a  lot  of  young  men 
"  O'er  the  Deep  Blue  Sea,"  from  Pinafore.  The  professor 
struggled  manfully,  as  he  took  each  young  gentleman 
seriatim  and  sang  and  resang  the  part  Avitli  varied  waives 
and  flourishes  of  the  hand  each  time  ;  then  he  would  move 
olf  some  distance  and  shout :  "  now,  all  together  !  "  The 
professor's  voice  would  ring  out  in  rich  tones  while  the 
young  men  looked  on  in  mute  astonishment.  Then  the 
leader  would  wipe  the  perspiration  from  his  brow  in  an 
agonized  way,  whilst  Gordon,  though  no  musician,  knew 
well  enough  that  those  young  men  did  not  understand  a 
note.  How  could  they  when  Ihey  scarcely  took  time  fi'om 
their  business  to  eat. 

Presently,  Gordon  beard  a  titter  among  the  boys 
around,  some  of  whom  had  escorted  the  ladies  down  ;  turn- 
ing his  head,  lie  saw  one  of  them  slowly  walking  up  the 
centre  of  the  hall  witb  a  placard  abstracted  from  one  of  the 
chairs,  pinned  on  his  back  on  whicb  was  written  the  word 
"  taken."  When  he  moved  farther  ofl:',  cheer  after  cheer 
went  up  from  the  youngsters  as  the  class  itself  rushed  to 
the  front  of  the  stage,  whilst  a  smile  played  over  the  profes- 
sor's features  as  he  exclaimed  :  "  Class  dismissed  for  the 
evening  !  "  The  whole  scene  was  so  ridiculous  that  the 
feelings  of  indignation  which  first  rose  in  Gordon's  breast 
at  the  ill-bred  manners  of  the  young  men  gave  way  to 
unrestrained  merriment  as  he  escorted   elulia  out,  while  a 


26  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystonb  lodge 

number  of  voices  chanted  :    "  Sir  Joseph  Porter,  K.  C.  B." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  conduct  ?  "  exclaimed  she, 
as  soon  as  they  reached  the  street.  "  Why,  they  broke  up 
the  whole  night's  })erformance." 

"  That  small  boy  gave  one  in  its  place,  though,"  laughed 
Gordon. 

"  He's  the  worst  boy  in  town,"  she  said.  "  Mr.  Gordon, 
I  don't  believe  those  young  men  in  the  class  will  ever  learn 
Pinafore." 

"  Just  what  I  thought  and  predicted,"  he  replied, 
smiling. 

They  walked  on  some  monients  in  silence. 

"  Mr.  Gordon,  why  don't  you  say,  "  I  told  you  so,"  she 
uttered,  looking  around  shyly  and  archly  at  him. 

•'  You  see,  I  am  magnanimous,"  he  smiled. 

Just  then  she  moved  her  hand  forward  on  his  arm  a 
little.  Gordon  looked  down  upon  it.  It  was  beautifully 
shaped  and  looked  so  peaceful  and  quiet  reposing  in  the 
silvery  light  of  the  moon  with  its  alabaster  whiteness. 

"  What  a  lovely  hand  you  have  !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a 
caressing  tone  of  voice. 

"Mr.  Gordon — you  forget  yourself!"  she  cried  out, 
jerking  it  from  his  arm  and  standing  still  in  the  street. 

Gordon  was  completely  taken  aback. 

"  Didn't  you  ever  have  any  one  tell  you  before  that 
your  hand  was  pretty  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  You  shan't  say  those  things  to  me — ^you  don't  mean 
a  word  of  them,"  she  replied  in  answer  to  his  question. 

"  I  don't  mean  them  !"  he  exclaimed,  looking  intently 
at  her.  "  You  choose  to  assert  that,"  he  went  on,  "  but  I 
know  better;  I  mean  every  word  of  it.  You  treat  me 
abominably !  I  cannot  say  a  word  ;  utter  a  thought,  unless  I 
am  roundly  informed  that  I  am  telling  an  untruth.  I  am 
tired  of  it !  I  am  downright  angry  !  " 

Th'ev  ffazed  at  each  other  in  absolute  silence. 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.        27 

"  I  don't  see  any  use  in  staying  here  any  longer,"  she 
said,  looking  at  him  out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes. 

"  Then  we  will  t^o  on,"  he  bowed  stiffly,  holding  out 
an  arm  to  her  through  which  she  meekly  put  her  hand. 

Neither  uttered  a  word  until  they  were  nearly  home. 

"  Mr.  Gordon,  are  you  much  mad  ?  "  she  asked,  look- 
ing up  softly  at  him. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  he  returned,  in  a  quivering  tone  of  voice. 

"  Then  let's  make  it  up,  won't  you?  "  she  asked  again. 

For  a  moment  he  made  no  reply.  Then  he  looked 
around  towards  her.  Her  face  was  tilled  with  a  roguish 
smile  as  she  glanced  up  at  him. 

"  Say  well,  won't  you?" 

He  looked  at  her  again. 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile,  as  he  held  open 
the  gate  for  her  to  pass  in. 

"  I  wonder  if  they've  retired  ?  "  said  he,  as  he  noticed 
the  empty  chairs  in  the  piazza. 

"  I  hardly  expect  they  have,"  she  returned,  "  I  saw  a 
light  in  the  parlor  Avindow  ;  we  will  go  in  there." 

"  So  you  have  returned  at  last !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  John, 
who  was  8  sitting  upon  a  sofa,  conversing  with  Rosa  and  Mr. 
Metcalf.     "  What  makes  you  so  late  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  we  were  early,  replied  Gordon,  "  the 
practicing  came  to  a  short  end  by  the  enacting  of  a  comedy 
by  one  of  the  small  boys,"  he  laughed,  as  he  looked  at 
Julia. 

"  What  did  he  do  ?  "  asked  one  or  two  voices  at  once. 

"  He  overturned  Pinafore,  for  one  thing,"  said  Gordon, 
who  then  related  all  that  passed,  in  his  usually  humorous 
and  sarcastic  vein. 

"  So  you  do  not  think  they  will  make  a  success  of 
Pinafore  ?  "  asked  Metcalf. 

"  Not  unless  they  carry  the  small  boy  along  to  divert 
the  audience  from  the  music.  I  am  sure  the  daily  quartette 
we  have  here  is  much  superior,"  said  Gordon. 


28  THAT  BRUISIN'  lad  o'  UIIEYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  You  mean  when  \vc  sing, '  ['11  bo  All  Smiles  To-niglit, 
Love,'  "  laughed  Rosa, 

"  Exactly,"  he  answered. 

"  Then  we'll  begin  now,"  said  Julia  ;  Mr.  Gordon, 
play  the  accompaniment." 

As  Gordon  took  his  seat  at  the  i)ian()  and  the  rest 
gathered  around,  they  certaiidy  made  a  handsome  quartette; 
nor  were  they  deficient  in  singing,  cither.  Even  ma  Sylves- 
ter, lying  back  on  the  sofa,  was  quiet  under  its  influence, 
and  really  sorry  when  the  voices  died  away  on  the  stillness 
of  the  air. 

"  Well,  it  is  time  for  you  to  retire,  young  ladies,"  she 
said,  rising  and  bidding  the  gentlemen  good-night. 

"Look  here,  Gordon,"  said  Charlie,  as  soon  as  the  door 
was  closed,  "Ma  Sylvester  is  watching  you." 

"  Hope  she  will  be  edified,"  replied  the  other  coolly,  as  he 
lighted  a  cigarette  from  the  gas.  "  What  causes  her  to 
seek  me  out? " 

"  Interest  in  her  daughter,"  said  Metcalf. 

"  How  do  you  know,"  inquired  he,  looking  up  in  a  sur- 
prised manner. 

"  Because,  she  as  good  as  told  me  so,"  returned  Charlie. 
"  What  are  you  up  to,  Frank,  anyway?"  asked  he. 

"  I  really  can't  sa}'." 

"  What  are  your  intentions  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  any  that  I  know  of." 

"  What  is  to  become  of  this — where  is  it  to  end  ?  " 
asked  Metcalf,  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  other. 

"  I  haven't  the  ghost  of  an  idea ;  I  am  simply  drifting 
with  the  tide,"  he  said. 

"  Gordon,  don't  drift  on  down  until  you  are  tired  and 
then  leave  her  alone  to  stem  the  torrent  into  which  you 
have  led  her,"  said  Metcalf,  seriously. 

"  Metcalf!  "  he  exclaimed,  "  don't  lecture  ;  remember, 
we  are  liaving  a  holiday  now  ;  don't  break  in  on  my  routine 
of  simple  pleasure. 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  O'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  29 

"  Gordon,  (iiordon,''  s;ii(l  Cliurlic,  risiiiii;  and  pacino; 
the  floor;  "  don't  call  it  a  'simple  pleasure  '  to  yourself  to 
raise  hopes  in  a  fresh,  young  heart  which  will  be  crushed 
out,  disappointed  and  withered.  That  girl  is  becoming 
interested  in  you  ;  you  are  throwing  a  charm  and  light  into 
her  existence  she  never  knew  before.  For  God's  sake, 
pause !  " 

"  But,  Metcalf,"  he  said,  "  suppose  she  interests  me  ;  is 
there  anything  Avrong  in  seeking  her  as  my  wife?  " 

"You  marry  Julia  Sylvester!"  exclaimed  Metcalf, 
almost  stammering. 

"  And  why  not — pray?"  demanded  Gordon,  coolly. 

"  Why,  what  would  the  proud  Gordon's  of  Weston 
say  to  your  marrj-ing  ma  Sylvester's  daughter  ? "  inquired 
Charlie,  in  reply. 

"  They  would  raise  shindy,"  said  the  other ;  "  my 
Respected  Parent  would  raise  his  hands  in  holy  horror 
when  I  introduced  ma  Sylvester,  and  would  doubtless  won- 
der what  was  the  incipient  cause  of  my  insanity.  I  haven't 
thought  ot  marrying,  haven't  thought  of  wliat  will  become 
of  the  matter,  haven't  thought  of  anything  but  the  happy, 
golden  present." 

"But  please  think,  Frank,"  said  the  other,  as  they 
rose  to  retire. 

"  Metcalf,  you  alwaj'S  were  a  rum  kind  of  chap," 
lausi'hed  Gordon. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Langdon  House,  where  Metcalt  and  Gordon  took 
their  daily  meals,  was  first-class  in  every  respect,  from 
the  slippered  waitresses  to  tlie  eggs  which  they 
scved  on  toast.      The  house  was  owned  and  managed  by  a 


30  THAT  BRUISIN*    LAD  o'   GREVSTONH  LODGE. 

lady  named  Miss  Eliza  Langdon — Miss  Lize,  as  her 
boarders  called  her  for  brevity's  sake.  She  was  assisted  by 
a  most  respectable  colored  woman  named  Katie  Winston, 
who  was  of  invaluable  assistance  to  her.  Miss  Lize  was 
known  throughout  the  city  as  a  good  financier,  and  in 
connection  with  her  mode  of  management  had  been  char- 
acterized as  "business  all  over." 

Miss  Lize  believed  in  method ;  she  required  it  from 
the  seating  of  her  guests  at  the  dinner-table,  to  the  feeding 
of  her  Skye  terrier.  Her  breakfasts,  dinners  and  suppers 
were  served  at  regular  hours,  and  each  guest  was  expected 
to  be  prompt  in  attendance. 

Miss  Lize  was  honest,  too  ;  her  menu  consisted  of  the 
best  the  market  could  aftbrd,  and  was  always  served  in  the 
most  inviting  style  ;  she  gave  you  your  money's  worth  every 
month,  with  care  and  particularity,  and  at  the  termination 
of  that  period  expected  you  to  observe  the  same  rigid  punc- 
tuality in  the  settlement  of  your  bill. 

She  took  a  motherly  interest  in  every  one  of  her 
guests,  and  lived  as  much  for  their  benefit  as  her  own.  The 
flowers  around  the  house  were  devoted  to  their  use,  and 
scarcely  a  Sunday  passed  during  the  spring  that  she  did  not 
have  a  bouquet  of  roses  on  each  guest's  plate,  which  he  was 
duly  ex[:)ected  to  use  afterward  as  a  button-hole  bouquet. 
She  kept  thoroughly  posted  as  to  each  one's  habits,  mode  of 
life,  financial  ability  and  business  character,  and  if  she  saw 
anything  wrong,  would  sympathize  with  or  scold  the  person, 
as  her  ideas  of  right  or  wrong  dictated. 

At  the  present  time  she  was  somewhat  puzzled  about  Met- 
calf ;  he  came  to  her  house  a  perfect  stranger  and  had  been 
taking  his  meals  there  for  three  weeks.  She  had  tried  every 
way  to  find  out  something  about  him,  but  failed  ;  no  one 
seemed  to  know  anything  about  him ;  so  far  as  she  could  see 
or  learn,  he  had  no  property  ;  he  was  in  no  business,  nor 
engaged  in  any  profession,  which  showed  he  had  visible 
means  of  support.       She  was  becoming  very  much  worried 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAb  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  81 

over  the  matter,  had  advised  with  Katie  Winston  and  had 
lost  a  good  deal  of  sleep  in  trying  to  solve  the  prohleni  con- 
cerning him.  To  kee^)  any  one  as  a  table-hoarder  without 
baggage  or  belongings,  knowing  nothing  about  the  person, 
was  not  to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment. 

She  determined  one  morning  to  go  and  consult  her 
brother-in-law,  Doctor  Griswold,  who  had  grown  up  with 
the  town,  and  find  out  if  he  could  give  her  the  desired 
information. 

"  John  !  "  she  called  out  to  the  boy  working  in  the 
flowerbeds,  "when  is  your  time  up  for  working  those  beds?" 

"  Half  past  nine.  Miss  Lize,"  answered  the  boy 
respectfully. 

"  Then  John,  at  fifteen  minutes  to  ten,  bring  my  phaeton 
out,"  she  said,  disappearing. 

As  she  ascended  the  front  steps,  Metcalf  and  Gordon 
came  in  to  breakfast.  Her  face  was  rigidly  stolid  as  she 
gave  them  a  distant  good  morning. 

"You  are  late  for  breakfast,  Mr.  Metcalf,"  she  spoke 
freezingly,  looking  across  Gordon  at  him. 

"  I  am  very  sorry.  Miss  Langdon,"    said  he,  politely. 

"Feeling  sorry  does  not  give  the  servants  time  to  clean 
off"  for  dinner,"  she  said  coldly. 

"  I  shall  try  and  be  earlier,  next  time,"  he  replied, 
smiling.  "But  you  have  never  told  me  yet  the  exact  time 
of  your  meals." 

"  Not  my  fault,"  she  went  on,  tartly.  "  I  have  the 
regular  hours  printed  on  a  card  on  the  wall,  hanging  next 
to  the  dining-room  door.  Your  own  negligence  is  the  cause 
of  your  not  knowing.     Mr.  Metcalf  I — you  can  go  oil  now." 

Gordon  was  simply  astounded  at  her  manner  of 
speaking. 

"  Judging  from  her  asperity,  I  suppose  she  has  reached 
that  age  in  life,  which  we  term  old  maidism,"  he  remarked 
hotly,  as  he  hung  up  his  hat. 

"  She  is  a  very  good   woman,"  said  Metcalf.      "  She 


32  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge. 

carries  on  her  Mftkirs  on  strictly  methodical  principles,  which 
is  necessary  in  her  business." 

"  All  the  same,  she  has  taken  my  appetite  away,"  he 
smiled.  "  I  see  a  fellow  over  yonder  who  is  just  beginning 
to  l)reakfast — I  wonder  if  he  ii^ot  lectured." 

Metcalf  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  other  table.  Tie 
saw  a  rather  tall,  spare-made  man,  with  grey  hair  and  side 
whiskers,  and  a  sharp,  vinegarish  expression. 

"  He  is  a  kind  of  institution  here,"  replied  he.  "  I 
doubt  if  Miss  Lize  called  him  to  account." 

"  What's  his  name,  and  what  does  he  do  ? "  asked 
Gordon. 

"  He  is  a  clerk  in  some  department  here,"  answered 
Charlie.     "  Alex.  Sisson  is  his  name." 

"lie  looks  like  one  of  that  set,"  laughed  Gordon  softly. 
"lie,  moreover,  has  that  sharp,  hawkisk  look,  denoting 
that  he  loves  money." 

"  He's  awfully  close,  I  have  heard,"  said  the  other. 
"  From  a  small  salary  he  saved  enough  to  invest  in  real 
estate  to  a  certain  extent,  and  has  made  some  money.  But 
wliat  made  you  think  he  was  stingy  ?  " 

"By  the  general  set  of  his  face,"  said  Frank,  frowning. 
"  [t  looks  as  if  he  was  lean  and  gaunt  to  see  a  dollar." 

"  Frank,"  said  Charlie,  smiling,  "you  are  so  hard  on 
people.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  man  who  lays  up  money 
and  accumulates,  nmst  have  brain  power.  At  least  you 
respect  that." 

"  No  such  thing !  "  exclaimed  he.  "Brain  power  is  not 
necessary  in  order  that  a  man  may  lay  u})  money.  There  is 
no  animal  so  sure  to  be  laden  witli  money  as  an  ass,  who 
rarely  kuows  how  to  exchange  it  for  anything  else.  Your 
concentrated  fox  is  seldom  comparable  to  your  concentrated 
ass  in  money  l)reeding." 

"  And  pray,  why  ?  "  asked  the  other,  looking  up  in  a 
surprised  manner. 

"  Because,"  replied  he,  "  your  concentrated  fox  thinks 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE    LODGE.  33 

of  many  things,  und  turns  liis  attention  more  than  one  way. 
The  other  talks  ahout  money,  thinks  about  money,  dreams 
about  money,  and  acquires  no  knovvledg'j  apart  from  money, 
until  he  becomes  a  concentrated  ass.  That  is  us  sure  as  the 
fact  that  a  '  dead  carrion  breeds  maggots.'  " 

"  You  have  heen  reading  something  lately  on  this  sul)- 
Ject,"  laughed  Charlie.     "You  argue  like  a  logician." 

"  Mr.  Metcalf !  "  cried  out  Miss  Lize  from  her  phaeton, 
as  tlie  young  men  passed  through  the  gate,  "  we  have  din- 
ner at  one  o'clock  sharp." 

"  Yes,  miss,"  replied  Gordon,  stitHy,  as  they  walked 
down  the  street. 

The  two  young  men  were  scarcely  out  of  sight  before 
Miss  Langdon  ordered  John  to  drive  to  Doctor  James 
Griswold. 

Doctor  Griswold  married  a  sister  of  Miss  Eliza  Lang- 
don's,  and  in  his  own  estimation  was  a  person  of  some 
importance.  Tlis  appearance  was  not  prepossessing,  with 
wee  bits  of  grey  eyes  covered  with  glasses,  common  brown 
hair  and  beard.  He  was  diminutive  in  statue,  with  the 
exception  of  large  feet.  The  doctor  was  an  officer  in  the 
city,  and  really  believed  he  had  literary  talent,  which  had 
spent  some  of  its  force  in  writing  an  article  or  two  for  the 
local  papers,  on  the  subjects  of  "  Small-pox,"  and  "  The 
Duties  of  a  Coroner."  He  was  on.  the  point  of  entering  his 
doctor's  vehicle  when  Miss  Eliza  drove  up. 

"  Morning,  Lize — morning,"  he  said. 

"James,  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  a  moment,"  she 
said,  as  her  horse  was  driven  near  the  curbstone. 

"  Will  you  come  in  the  house  or  remain  out  here  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Just  come  up  to  my  phaeton,"  she  replied.  "That's 
it.  James,  I  have  a  boarder  at  my  house,  and  I  cannot  iind 
out  anything  about  him.  I  thought  I  would  ask  you,  since 
you  have  been  here  so  long." 


34  THAT    BRUISIN'    LAD    o'    liREYSTONE    LODOE. 

"  What's  his  name  ?  "  inquired  the  doctor,  pursing  up 
his  lips,  and  looking  very  important. 

"  Charles  Metealf,"  she  replied,  glancing  anxiously 
towards  him.  "  He  came  about  three  weeks  ago ;  on  yes- 
terday he  brought  another  man  with  him  named  Gordon, 
who  wanted  table  board  ;  I  cannot  find  out  anything  about 
either  of  them,  I  don't  like  having  young  men  boarding 
with  me  about  whom  I  scarcely  know  anything." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  muttered  the  doctor.  "  Met- 
calfe— Metealf;  I  have  heard  that  name.  Oh,  yes,  I  remem- 
ber now  !  he  was  here  for  a  short  time  and  loafed  around  ; 
Alfred  Lorraine  knows  him.  Aha,  he  is  the  fellow  who 
left  here  by  moonlight ;  yes,  yes — he  is  that  very  rascal  who 
opposed  my  collecting  a  coroner's  fee.  They  said  he  owed 
money,  tcfo ;  shady  character  I  expect,  Lize.  I  tell  you 
what  I  will  do,  I  will  drive  by  and  see  Lorraine ;  maybe  he 
can  give  me  some  information." 

"  I  wish  you  Avould,  James,  and  I  will  take  it  as  a  favor. 
Good-bye  James." 

"  Morning,  Lize — morning,"  he  replied,  moving 
towards  his  gig  as  she  drove  off. 

The  doctor  pursued  his  way  down  the  street,  occasion- 
ally lashing  his  horse,  which  maintained  the  same  dignified 
dog-trot  all  the  time.  He  would  glance  first  on  one  side 
and  then  on  another,  as  his  thoughts  alternated  between 
Metealf  and  whether  the  people  he  met  were  thinking  of 
him. 

"  I  will  go  at  once  to  Lorraine's  and  find  out  about  that 
fellow,"  he  muttered,  as  if  to  himself. 

"  What  you  say,  pa  ? "  inquired  his  thirteen-year-old 
son,  who  was  driving  him. 

"  Don't  ask  questions,  son,"  he  replied,  with  a  sigh. 
"  Your  pa  has  so  much  to  think  about  that  he  cannot  con- 
tain it  all," 

"  Yes,  pa,"  answered  the  boy,  as  they  drove  on  in 
silence. 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAI)  O'    GREYSTONE  L0D(1E.  35 

Reaching  the  court-house  yard,  he  went  at  once  to 
Lorraine's  office. 

"  Mr.  Lorraine,  can  I  speak  with  you  a  moment,"  he 
asked,  as  he  stood  within  the  room. 

"  Certainly,  doctor,"  answered  a  tall,  square-shouldered 
gentleman,  with  gray  eyes,  gray  hair,  moustache  and  goatee. 

"  I  want  to  find  out  something  about  Charles  Metcalf — 
dida't  he  stay  around  here  at  one  time?"  inquired  the 
doctor. 

"  Yes,  he  did  ;  what  do  you  wish  to  find  out  ?  I  saw 
him  here  the  other  day,"  said  Lorraine. 

''  What  kind  of  a  man  is  he  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired  Lorraine,  in  his  turn  ; 
"  as  a  lawyer,  he  is  a  master  of  his  profession  ;  he  is  very 
smart  I  can  tell  you,  and  extremely  agreeable."^ 

"  Didn't  he  leave  here  owing  some  money  't  "  inquired 
the  doctor. 

"  I  know  very  little  of  Metcalf 's  personal  affairs,"  he 
answered.  "  He  was  a  very  reticent  man  about  his  matters, 
but  I  understood  at  the  time  that  he  did  owe  some  ;  if  he 
has  not  paid  it,  I  am  sure  he  will  when  he  gets  it." 

Wasn't  there  some  talk  about  his  being  wrong  in  some 
way  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  that  he  was  verj^  reckless  and  extrava- 
gant at  one  time.  I  further  understand,"  went  on  the 
lawyer,  "  that  he  had  some  family  trouble,  the  nature  of 
which  I  never  understood,  nor  did  I  ever  seek  to  inquire." 

"  So,  ho  !  "  exclaimed  Dr.  Griswold,  brightening  per- 
ceptibly, "  he  has  a  shady  character  I  expect." 

"  I  would  advise  you  not  to  say  anything  of  that  kind 
to  him,  doctor,"  said  Lorraine  quietly. 

"  Why,  is  he  dangerous  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"  Extremely  so,"  answered  Lorraine,  in  a  positive  man- 
ner. "  He  would  be  disagreeably  so  if  you  were  to  intimate 
such  a  thing  to  him." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  propose  having  anything  to  do  with  him," 


36  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

said  the  doctor,  in  a  supercilious  manner  ;  "  I  simpl\Mvanted 
to  find  out  if  he  didn't  leave  here  owing  money." 

"  I  can  give  you  no  positive  information  on  that  score," 
he  smiled,  turning  to  his  papers  as  the  doctor  rose  to  leave. 

The  information  received  from  Lorraine  was  by  no 
means  damning  enough  in  Dr.  Griswold's  estimation. 

He  then  determined  to  see  Mr.  Tlill,  the  city  sergeant, 
and  find  out  if  he  could  throw  any  light  upon  Metcalf 's 
character.  He  knew  that  the  sergeant  was  well-informed 
on  all  matters  concerning  the  pecuniary  transactions,  liabili- 
ties and  movements  of  the  people  who  had  lived  here. 
Going  at  once  to  the  court-house  building,  he  found  him  in 
his  ofiice. 

The  sergeant  rose  as  he  entered. 

"  Whart;  can  I  do  for  you,  doctor  ?"  inquired  he. 

"  I  want  some  information  about  a  certain  party  who 
lived  here,"  he  replied. 

"  Who  Avas  it,  doctor  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  Mr.  Charles  Metcalf;  Lorraine  knows  him — he  used 
to  stay  around  here,"  answered  he. 

"  I  knew  him  in  my  oificial  capacity,  only,"  said  Mr. 
Hill.     "  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  he  is  a  brilliant  man." 

"  What  was  his  reputation  concerning  money  ?"  asked 
the  doctor. 

"  Well,  now  doctor,  I  doubt  if  I  can  give  you  any 
information  on  that  score,"  replied  Hill,  his  countenance 
falling.  The  sergeant  disliked  to  repeat  hearsay  derogatory 
remarks  made  about  anyone,  and  he  knew  many  had  been 
spoken  about  Metcalf.  "  I  did  hear  that  he  failed  to  pay 
some  money  that  he  owed." 

"  Is  that  so  ?"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  feigning  surprise. 
"  Did  you  ever  hear  any  one  say  anything  else  about  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  remember  just  now — let  me  see.  Doctor,  I 
can  inform  you  who  is  most  likel}'  to  tell  you  all  about 
him—" 

"  Who  ?"  asked  the  doctor,  interrupting  him  eagerly. 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  O'    (JREYSTONE  LODGE.  37 

"  Trohcrne,  my  deputy,"  answered  Hill.  "  I  rcmomlxT 
now  that  he  was  horn  and  hrcd  in  the  same  county  in  which 
Metcalf  lived — wait  a  moment,  I'll  'phone  for  him. 

In  about  five  minutes  Treherne  came  in,  a  genial,  kind- 
looking  man. 

"  Treherne,"  inquired  Hill,  "  do  you  know  anything 
about  Charles  Metcalf,  who  staid  here  once  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  bred  in  the  same  county — I  know  all  his 
people  well,"  replied  Treherne. 

"  What  kind  of  people  are  they  ?"  asked  Doctor  Gris- 
wold. 

"  The  best  in  the  state,"  answered  the  other. 

"  What  about  him  ;  wasn't  there  something  wrong 
with  him?"  queried  the  doctor  eagerly,  with  that  deeply 
interested  expression  upon  his  face  betrayed  by  a  terrier 
watching  expectantly  at  a  rat-hole,  knowing  that  the  little 
animal  may  come  out  any  moment. 

"  In  what  way  do  you  mean  ? "  inquired  Treherne, 
really  amused  at  the  look  upon  his  face. 

"  About  his  pecuniary  matters,  and  such  like,"  replied 
he. 

"  His  money  matters  have  always  been  wrong,"  laughed 
Treherne.  "  He  spent  an  estate  of  some  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  and  got  head  over  heels  in  debt — " 

"  Good  gracious ! "  cried  Doctor  Griswold,  "  what  a 
scamp  !  " 

In  his  estimation,  a  man  was  a  rascal  who  threw  his 
money  away,  unless  in  his  direction. 

"  I  heard  also,"  went  on  the  deputy,  "  that  he  had  some 
kind  of  trouble  at  college.  I  could  never  learn  the  particu- 
lars of  that.     I — " 

"  What  was  it?"  he  interrupted  again,  with  almost 
breathless  anxiety. 

"  Something  about  a  lady,"  said  the  deputy.  "  I  never 
found  out  what  the  mystery  was,  but  I  know  it  caused  him 
some  trouble.     He   was  never  the   same   man   afterwards. 


38  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge. 

But,  doctor,  he  is  a  gentleman,  and  one  of  the  most  gener- 
ous men  I  ever  saw." 

"  Sir !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  swelling  with  righteous 
indignation,  "  he  is  a  rascal!"  And  the  doctor  brought 
his  hand  down  upon  the  table  with  a  slap,  which  caused  the 
pens  and  ink  to  rattle. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Treherne,  his  face  assuming  a  serious 
expression.  "  I  do  not  mean  to  interfere  in  jour  private 
matters,  but  you  had  better  not  speak  about  Metcalf  in  that 
way,  because  if  it  came  to  his  ears  I  would  not  like  v,ery 
much  to  be  in  your  place.  He  is  the  worse  person  aroused 
I  ever  knew.  I  just  offer  thi-s  as  a  suggestion  for  your  own 
benefit." 

"  I  suppose  I  could  defend  myself,"  said  he,  paling  at 
the  very  idea  of  such  a  suggestion. 

"  Better  men  than  you,  doctor,  have  tried  and  failed, 
when  he  Avas  interfered  with,"  said  Treherne  quietly. 

Doctor  Griswold  paused  a  moment  and  looked  at  Tre- 
herne from  out  of  his  wee  bits  of  eyes.  lie  felt  sure  that 
Treherne  was  friendly  towards  Metcalf,  and  would  not  tell 
all  he  knew. 

"  And  that's  all  you  know  ? "  he  asked,  with  a 
certain  tone  of  doubt  in  his  voice  as  he  put  the  question. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  there  is  much  more  that  could  be  told 
about  the  man,"  replied  the  deputy,  "  but  I  have  never 
heard  anything  else  derogatory  to  his  reputation.  He  was 
exceedingly  fund  of  fine  horses,  and  rode  a  great  deal ;  in 
fact,  spent  much  money  in  that  way.  It  was  also  said  that 
he  had  a  genius  for  managing  ladies  as  well.  He  had  a 
nick  name  given  him  by  the  fellows  in  the  county." 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"I  was  just  trying  to  think — oh  yes!  It  was  'That 
Bruisin'  Lad  0'  Greystone  Lodge.'  " 

"Well,  tell  me  something  about  that  college  scrape  he 
got  into  ?  "  he  asked  impatiently. 

"  I  told  you  I  could  never  find  out  anytliing  about  it," 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.         39 

he  returned.  "  No  one  seemed  to  know  ii  thing  about  the 
circumstances  connected  with  it." 

"  Was  he  ever  married  ? "  asked  Doctor  (xriswold. 

"  lie  is  said  to  have  been  married,"  replied  Treherne, 

"  Where  is  his  wife  ? " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  who  she  is  nor  where  she  is,"  con- 
tinued the  deputy,  I  do  not  positively  know  that  he  was 
ever  married.  Some  suppose  that  the  lady  with  whom  he 
had  the  att'air  while  he  was  at  college  and  his  wife  was  one 
and  the  same  person." 

"  Ah-ha !  "  the  doctor  exclaimed  softly.  "  I  begin  to 
find  out  something.     I — " 

"  Don't  lay  any  stress  on  what  I  tell  you,  doctor," 
interrupted  Treherne,  "  because  I  know  nothing  positively." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  !  "  cried  the  doctor,  with  a  peculiar 
ring  in  his  voice,  as  he  drew  on  his  gloves  and  left. 

The  doctor  was  a  little  worried  and  puzzled  as  he 
walked  back  to  his  gig.  He  had  mentally  determined  when 
he  started  out  that  mornins;,  that  after  scainino;  his  informa- 
tion  he  would  seek  Metcalf  out,  upbraid  him  properly,  and 
then  inquire  how  such  a  person  as  he  dared  to  obtain  quar- 
ters at  his  respectable  sister-in-law's.  But  since  he  learned 
of  Metcalf's  being  a  dangerous  man  his  love  of  self  over- 
came his  idea  of  duty,  and  he  determined  to  say  nothing  to 
Metcalf  at  present.  He  was  puzzled,  because  he  felt  cer- 
tain there  was  something  about  the  man  which  he  could 
not  get  at ;  nevertheless  he  was  satisfied  that  there  were 
some  awful  things  about  him,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  so 
report  the  matter  to  his  sister-in-law. 

"  Strange  !  "  he  muttered,  as  he  reached  his  gig.  "  It 
seems  impossible  to  get  at  any  tangible  fact  concerning 
him  " 

"  Where  to,  pa  ?  "  asked  his  son  as  he  stepped  into  his 
vehicle. 

"  Drive  to  the  Langdon  House,"  he  replied,  absently. 

On  reaching  there,  and  walking  into  the  in  closure,  he 


40  THAT    BKUISIN'    LAD    o'    OREYSTONE    LODGE. 

found  Miss  Eliza  and  Mr.  Sisson  sitting  in  the  vine-covered 
piazza. 

"  Evening,  Lize — evening,  Sisson,"  he  said,  as  he  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  his  brow.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  here  the 
result  of  my  investigation  ?  "  He  looked  towards  Mr.  Sis- 
son, who  glanced  across  the  street  in  a  mock-disinterested 
kind  of  manner. 

"  Of  course,"  she  answered.  "  Mr.  Sisson  is  like  a 
member  of  the  family." 

"  Lize,"   he  proceeded  solemnly ;    "  that  man  Metcal 
cannot  be  trusted.     He  spent  a  large  estate  and  ran  in  debt. 
He  also  married  and  deserted  an  estimable  young  lady.     He 
is  a  'shady  lot.'  " 

"  I  told  you  he  wouldn't  do,"  chimed  in  Sisson.  "  I 
know  a  man  when  I  see  him.  He  is  stuck  up,  too.  He 
treats  us  oiRce  boys  as  if  he  didn't  care  a  rush  for  us." 

"  I  was  atraid  something  was  tlie  matter,"  she  said 
solemnly,  as  she  rose  and  walked  towards  the  door. 

"  You'll  make  him  leave,  won't  you  Lize  ? "  asked  her 
brother-in-law. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  month,"  she  answered,  flatly,  leav- 
ing the  gentlemen  to  their  own  ruminations,  as  she  went  to 
prepare  for  dinner. 


CHAPTER  V. 


A  few  days  after  the  foregoing  events,  an  evening  sun 
was  pouring  its  slanting  rays  o'er  the  trees  and  green  grass 
in  pa  Sylvester's  ydrd. 

Rosa  Reynolds  was  sitting  upon  the  rustic  seat  around 
the  apple-tree,  looking  down  upon  her  feet  as  she  moved 
them  backwards  and  forwards  in  the  thick,  cool-looking  grass. 
Her   countenance   was    obscured   from    view   by   a   large, 


THAT  BRUISIN'    lad  o'    GREYSTONE  LOtXJE.  41 

bewitchiiig-loooking  Ktraw  hat,  so  that  Metcalf,  who  liacl 
conic  upon  the  i)iazza  a  moment  ago,  eouhl  i^otseeher  face. 

Watcliing  licr  as  she  sat  bending  over,  with  her  dark 
tresses  waiving  here  and  there,  her  Ijthe,  rounded  figure 
stooping  over,  her  easy,  graceful  movemcTits  with  her  feet, 
The  Bruisin'  Lad,  who  had  rarely  glanced  at  a  woman 
l)efore,  felt  his  pulse  quicken  and  his  heart  beat  faster  than 
its  usual  wont. 

She  heard  a  movement  on  the  porch  ;  she  glanced  up 
quickly  and  then  smiled. 

"  Oh  !  it's  you  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  thought  it  was 
somebody." 

"  I  count  myself  somebody,  although  I  have  some  doubt 
about  my  being  more  than  an  actual  existing  somebody," 
he  replied,  walking  across  and  taking  a  seat  by  her. 

"I  didn't  mean  that  you  were  nobody,"  she  laughed, 
flushing  slightly,  "  I  meant  to  say  that  I  thought  you  were 
somebody  else.  You  know  that  I  think  you  are  quite  a 
somebody — you  know  you  are  awfully  clever." 

"  I  know — I — am — clever  !  "  he  exclaimed,  pausing 
between  each  word.    "  I  don't  know  any  such  thing." 

"  The  article  you  wrote  was  clever,  at  any  rate,"  she 
said,  looking  in  a  teasing  manner  at  him. 

"  My  article !  "  he  uttered  slowly,  with  surprise. 
"  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  Then  you  did  write  it — so  my  little  birdie  was  not 
wrong,"  she  laughed  softly,  as  he  looked  at  her  in  mute 
astonishment. 

"  To  which  article  do  you  refer  ?  "  he  asked. 

"So  you  have  written  more  than  one,  have  you  ?  "  she 
inquired.  "  You  have  been  very  mouse-like  and  quiet 
about  your  pursuits,  and  people  have  been  wondering  what 
you  are  doing,  but  I  heard  some  one  speak  of  an  article  in 
the  Eclectic  which  you  wrote,  and  when  I  tax  you  with  it, 
in  your  eager  curiosity  to  find  out  something,  you  give  me 
an  insight  into  your  craft.     Allow  me  to  congratulate  you, 


42  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge. 

i 

Mr.  Mctcalf,  upon  being  a  member  of  that  favored  class 
known  as — authors.  I  have  your  secrets  now,  and  my  price 
of  secrecy  is  all  sorts  of  nice  behavior  on  your  part." 

"  You  astound  me — please  tell  me  how  you  found  out, 
won't  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,"  she  said,  smiling  roguishly  at  hira, 
"  you  are  better  known  than  you  thought  or  had  an  idea  of. 
I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  who  told  me." 

"  Do  tell  me,"  he  urged. 

"  No — I  promised  I  would  not." 

"  The  person  won't  mind,"  he  begged  in  a  pleading 
tone. 

"  Oh — oh !  yes  the  person  would.  I  never  betray  con- 
iidejice." 

"  I  am  simply  astonished,"  he  said,  looking  in  a  puz- 
zled manner  towards  her,  "  at  such  a  thing  leaking  out. 
You  are  a  kind  of  uncanny  spiritual  being,  I  believe." 

"  I  know  something  about  Mr.  Gordon,  too  !"  she  cried. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  know  about  Gordon  ?  " 

"  He  is  writing  too." 

"Gordon  writing  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  don't  believe  it. 
What  is  he  scribbling  upon  ?  " 

"  A  Sketch  of  Shirly,"  she  answered. 

"  Who  told  you  that?  "  he  asked,  full  of  astonishment. 
"  Look  here  !  If  you  don't  tell  me  who  informed  you  al)out 
these  things,  I  shall  really  believe  you  are  a  supernatural, 
spiritual  being." 

"  I  am  flesh  and  blood,"  she  said.  "St.  Paul  informs 
us  that  flesh  and  blood  is  not  spiritual  but  earthly — earthy, 
of  the  earth.     How  can  I  be  a  spiritual  person  ?  " 

"  Then  you  are  a  spirit — spiritual — " 
"  Contraption  !  "  she  interrupted. 
Metcalf  laughed  heartily  at  this  word. 
"  When  did  you  coin  that  part  of  speecli  ?"  he  asked,  as 
soon  a^  his  lauorh  subsided. 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.         43 

"  Why  that's  a  good  old  English  word,"  she  replied, 
drawing  herself  up  with  dignity. 

"  You  can't  find  it  in  the  dictionary,  anyhow,"  he  said, 

"  Have  you  looked  for  it,"  she  asked. 

"  No." 

"  Then  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  know  every 
word  in  the  dictionary  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Then  you  don't  know  whether  contraption  is  there  or 
not,"  she  said,  bringing  her  right  foot  down  upon  the  grass 
with  an  emphatic  stamp. 

"  I  acknowledge  I  am  vanquished,"  he  cried,  looking 
W'ith  undisguised  admiration  at  the  young  girl  who  turned 
him  down  so  easily. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,  why  do  you  look  at  me  with  such  a 
curious,  earnest  gaze,"  she  asked.  "  I  have  noticed  you  do 
it  several  times." 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  pause,  as  each  glanced  at 
the  other  ;  only  for  a  moment,  though,  because  after  that 
her  eyes  sank  beneath  his  gaze  in  spite  of  her  eftbrts  to 
keep  them  steadily  fixed  on  his,  whilst  a  faint  blush  gradu- 
ally stole  over  her  cheeks,  until  at  last  her  whole  face  was 
suffused  W'ith  cojor.  The  natural  sequence  to  such  a  ques- 
tion never  once  occurred  to  her  until  after  she  had  asked  it, 
and  she  felt  as  if  she  would  like  to  sink  into  the  earth  at  her 
feet.  Her  eyes  were  raised  but  once  more — only  to  meet 
his  same  steady  gaze,  beneath  which  they  fell  as  quickly 
again. 

"  I  look  at  you,"  he  said,  his  voice  quivering  at  first, 
"  because  you  are  the  most  natural,  unaffected,  ingenuous 
human  being  I  ever  saw.  Moreover,  I  cannot  help  feeling 
that  you  could  be  trusted  just  as  implicitly  as  we  believe  in 
the  gospel  of  St.  Matthew." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Metcalf!  "  she  exclaimed,  almost  humbly, 
"  isn't  that  sacriligeous  ?  " 

"  Are  you  sacriligeous?  "  he  asked. 


44  THAT  BRUISIN'  lad  o'  GREYSTOXE  l.ODCK. 

"  I  hope  not,"  she  replied,  earnestly. 

"  Then  nothini;'  I  could  say  about  you  would  be." 

"  Mr.  Metcalt;  I— I  didn't—" 

"  Mean  to  ask  that  question,"  he  interrupted.  "  I 
know  you- spoke  without  thinking  and  would  have  recalled 
the  question  ere  it  was  asked,  but  that,  like  everything  else 
you  do,  is  in  perfect  keeping  with  your  ingenuous  naicete. 
Miss  Rosa,  as  the  God  of  nature  created  3'ou,  ao  you  are 
now  ;  strive  hard  to  hold  fast  to  so  invaluable  an  acquisi- 
tion." 

"  I  never  thought  being  natural  was  so  wonderftil,"  she 
said,  simply. 

"  Isn't  it  something  to  l)e  like  the  Creator  who  made 
you — reflecting  his  image  in  every  act  and  thought  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  How  does  being  unaffected  and  ingenuous  make  any 
one  more  like  the  image  of  God  ?"  she  asked,  in  reply. 

"  Because  every  creation  of  God  is  perfect,"  he  returned. 
"  The  natural,  simple,  unafl:ected  ways  of  which  we  are 
speaking  is  but  a  perfect  resemblance  of  Him  in  manner. 
It  is  this  likeness  to  perfection  in  what  is  natural,  which 
appeals  so  strongly  to  all  of  us  who  are  rowing  more  or  loss 
in  the  craft  of  hypocrisy."  i 

"  I  never  thought  of  that  before,"  she  said,  looking 
thoughtfully  towards  the  western  horizon. 

Just  then  Julia  came  out. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  Rosa  rose. 

"  Over  to  Edie's,"  she  said. 

"  Edie's  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  who  is  she  ?  " 

"  She  is  my  ma's  sister,"  spoke  up  Julia,  as  she  joined 
them. 

"  Can  I  go  ?"  he  asked,  plaintively. 

"  Depends,"  said  Julia. 

"  On  what  ?  " 

"  Our  sovereign  wills,"  cried  Rosa,  dropping  into  her 
usually  teasing  vein. 


i 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  O'    UREYSTO^JE  LODOE.  45 

"  But  I  reckon  I  can  go,"  he  smiled. 

''  I  spec',"  said  Julia,  making  a  little  moue  at  him,  as 
tlioy  moved  ofK 

The  trio  |)roceeded  down  the  street,  Julia  on  the  inside, 
Rosa  next  to  her  and  Metcalf  on  the  outside.  Whenever 
any  of  the  household  went  walking,  it  mattered  not  how 
they  mancruvered,  Metcalf  would  iiivariahly  find  himself  by 
Kosa's  side. 

"  I  Avonder  what  has  become  of  Mr.  Gordon  ?  "  asked 
Julia. 

"  lie's  ruminating,"  laughed  Rosa. 

"On  what?"  asked  she. 

"  On  statistics.  Mr.  Metcalf,  you  are  not  fair  ! " 
exclaimed  Rosa. 

"  How  so  ? "  he  inquired,  moving  a  little  closer  and 
bending  his  head  nearer  as  if  to  catch  her  reply. 

"  You  are  not  keeping  your  place  on  the  side-walk — 
you  are  pushing  me  against  Julia." 

Rosa  had  a  hal>it  when  walking  on  the  street  of  grace- 
fully half  turning  when  she  spoke.  Metcalf's  heart  gave  a 
bound  as  she  did  this,  and  her  lovely  brown  eyes  sparkled 
near  his. 

"  You  are  so  mean  !  "  she  went  on,  in  a  half  petulant 
manner. 

"  I  am  not  half  so  mean  as  you  are,  to  quarrel  over 
such  a  little  thing,"  he  growled,  with  contempt. 

"  I  am  not  bad — I  am  just  as  good  and  sweet  as  I  can 
be,"  shy  said,  pouting,  then  giving  him  a  roguish  smile  with 
the  same  lips. 

"  Rosa,  how  conceited  you  are !  "  exclaimed  Julia. 
"You  two  are  forever  quarreling." 

Julia  was  not  far  from  wrong  in  a  certain  sense  ;  when- 
ever Metcalf  and  Rosa  were  together  with  any  one  they 
invariably  began  a  mock  battle,  in  which  the  most  unheard 
of  accusations  were  hurled  by  each  one  at  the  other. 


46  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  (jreystone  lodge 

When  they  reached  Miss  Edie  Farmer's  house,  Rosa 
stopped  on  the  sidewalk. 

"  Julia,  I  believe  I  will  go  and  see  Miss  Lettie." 

"  I'll  take  you,"  said  Metcalf,  as  he  held  the  gate  open 
for  Julia  to  pass  through. 

"  Who  is  Miss  Lettie  ?  "  he  asked,  as  they  proceeded 
onwards. 

''  Miss  Lettie — don't  you  know  the  young  lady  who 
came  up  with  me  and  married  Mr.  Fitzgiblet  ?  " 

"  You  mean  the  one  who  married  the  old  gentleman 
over  here  for  his  money  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "wasn't  it  funny  ?  he  is  eighty 
and  she  is  some  fifty  years  old.  They  never  saw  each  other 
until  she  came  to  marry  him  ;  he  was  angry  with  his 
children  by  his  first  wife,  and  concluded  to  disinherit  them. 
He  commenced  talking  soft  to  Edie,  but  she  would  not 
listen  to  him  ;  then  he  gets  Miss  Edie  to  write  to  Miss 
Lettie  Wiseman,  who  responded  most  favorably  and  so  they 
Avere  married." 

"  What  a  pair  of  idiots  !  "  exclaimed  he,  contemptu- 
ously. 

"  They  seem  very  happy,  all  the  same,"  she  said,  as 
they  paused  before  a  gate,  which  Metcalf  proceeded  to 
unlatch. 

An  old  gentleman,  stooping  with  age,  one  foot  totter- 
ing on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  met  them  at  the  door.  By 
his  pronunciation  Metcalf  knew  he  was  of  German  descent. 

"  How  vis  ye,  me  tear  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Coom  in  ;  bring 
3^e  frien'  vid  ye." 

"  Is  Miss  Lettie  in,"  asked  she. 

"  Yes,  here  I  am,"  said  a  cheery  voice  from  the  hall. 
"  Come  on  in,  Rosa." 

Metcalf  saw  a  gray-headed  lady,  with  a  partially 
wrinkled  face,  who  still  possessed  some  traces  of  having 
been  handsome,  long  and  merry  ago. 

When  they  were  all  seated  in  the   cozy   sitting-room. 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  O'    (JREYSTONE  LODGE.  47 

Metcalf  looked  at  the  old  couple  in  sheer  Jistonishmcnt. 
There  was  a  self-satisfied,  placid  look  on  the  old  gentleman's 
face,  whilst  Fitzgiblet's  wore  a  kind  of  half-apologetic 
expression  of  countenance,  which  produced  the  ini])ression 
that  she  forever  begged  pardon  for  having  married  the  old 
man.  Her  face,  too,  was  familiar  to  Metcalf;  he  felt  a  desire 
to  find  out  where  he  had  seen  her  before,  but  experienced 
a  hesitancy  in  breaking  in  on  the  conversation  between  the 
ladies.     Presently  there  was  a  pause. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,"  she  said,  "  I  used  to  know  some  of 
your  people,  I  think." 

"  Where,  Mrs.  Fitzgiblet  ? "  he  asked. 

"At  Lancing  Court  House;  I  lived  there  once  and 
have  seen  them  frequently,  going  to  and  returning  fi-om 
Etna." 

"  I  remember  now  that  I  saw  you  there,"  he  said. 
"  Where  did  you  move  to  from  there  ?  " 

"  I  went  to  Etna,"  she  returned.  "  I  am  well  known 
in  Etna ;  here  is  a  letter  I  received  from  one  of  the  first 
ladies  in  that  place.  This  shows  that  I  was  well  thought  of 
there,  and  was  not  obliged  to  make  a  change  of  life." 

Here  she  took  a  letter  from  the  table  and  showed  it 
-to  Metcalf,  who  glanced  at  the  signature,  '^s  he  thought 
how  each  apology  demonstrated  the  fact  that  she  was  not 
only  conscious  of  having  bartered  her  self-respect,  but  that 
it  needed  some  auxiliary  aid  for  support. 

"  Oh,  yes — I  know  Mrs.  Otway,"  he  said  smiling, 
"  You  are  indeed  fortunate  in  having  such  a  friend ;  I  know 
that  she  is  an  elegant  and  refined  lady,  who  has  won  an 
enviable  reputation  through  her  charitable  works." 

In  a  moment  Rosa  proposed  to  leave. 

Passing  Edie's  house,  they  found  that  Julia  had  gone 
to  call  upon  a  neighbor. 

"  And  you  call  that  a  happy  pair !  "  cried  Metcalf,  with 
a  slight  fling  of  contempt  in  his  voice. 


48  THAT  lillUlSIN'    LAD  o'    CKEYSTONE  LODdE. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  she  iiiiswcred.  "  lie  never  wants 
her  out  of  his  sight,  and  they  a[)pear  hap})y." 

"  Miss  Rosa  !  "  exclaimed  he,  almost  pausing  in  his 
walk,  "  that  is  an  unhappy,  conscience-struck  woman,  as 
sure  as  you  are  living." 

"  The  idea  !  "  she  ejaculated  ;  "  Miss  Lettie  never  did 
anything  in  her  life  to  cause  her  remorse." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,"  he  proceeded,  as 
they  walked  on  slowly.  "  Has  a  woman  done  nothing  who 
Ijarters  herself  for  the  extrinsic  trap^nngs  of  matrimony  ? 
Has  she  done  nothing  in  crushing  out  those  more  delicate, 
gentle  sentiments,  tilled  with  little  passions  sweet,  which 
ought  to  be  cherished  faithfully  to  render  her  more  womanly 
and  refined  ?  Has  she  done  nothing  who  sacrifices  her  true 
womanhood,  belonging  really  to  the  man  of  her  heart,  for 
victuals  and  clothes,  or  luxuries  ?  If  nothing  else,  she  has 
merely  committed  degredation,  and  just  think  what  a  quag- 
mire that  is  for  a  lady  to  sink  into." 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,  you  always  give  me  something  to  think 
about,"  she  said.  "I  am  sure  you  are  right  because  I  know 
I  cannot  bear  anyone  whom  I  do  not  like  to  come  near  me." 

They  walked  on  in  silence  until  the  Sylvester  mansion 
was  reached.  When  near  the  piazza,  Gordon  hailed  Met- 
calf from  the  window. 

"  Go  and  see  what  he  wants,"  smiled  Rosa,  relieving 
him  of  her  flowers  and  parasol  which  he  was  carrying. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Although  physically  small,  Doctor  Griswold  was 
neither  lacking  in  natural  sense  nor  in  a  kind  of  dogged 
determination  we  often  see  in  characters  like  his.  He  never 


THAT  BIIUISIN'    LAD  o'    ('.KEYSTONE  LODOE.  49 

for  one  nioineiit  thou<i;ht  of  giving  up  the  investigation 
concerning  Metculf  until  he  hud  exhausted  what  he  consid- 
ered the  entire  field  of  inquiry.  lie  dwelt  so  much  upon 
the  derogatory  side  of  this  man's  hearsay  character  without 
knowing  anything  of  his  good  traits,  that  he  really  believed 
him  to  be  a  villian  in  disguise. 

While  Metcalf  was  basking  in  the  sunlight  of  Rosa's 
smiles,  Doctor  Griswold  was  diligently  attempting  to  find 
out  something  about  him.  He  determined  to  see  some  of 
his  medical  friends  who  had  been  here  longer  than  himself; 
then  he  suddenly  thought  of  Doetor  Harry  Campbell,  who 
had  recently  settled  here,  and  recollected  that  he  was  from 
the  same  county  as  Metcalf.  Calling  for  his  gig  and  don- 
ning his  hat,  he  carried  out  the  purpose  formed  in  bis  mind 
of  going  to  see  Campbell,  and  in  some  thirty  minutes  was 
in  his  office. 

Campbell  was  very  polite  to  Doctor  Griswold,  feeling 
sure  that  the  latter  had  heard  something  of  his  wonderful 
knowledge  in  midwifery  and  came  to  call  him  in  for  con- 
sultation. He  looked  very  important  as  he  took  his  seat, 
and  pulled  at  his  thin,  light  moustache. 

"  Doctor  Cam[>bell,  I  want  some  information  about  a 
gentleman  from  your  county,"  saia  Griswold. 

Campbell's  face  fell  as  he  endeavored  to  smooth  away 
tlie  di8ap[)ointed  look  which  he  could  feel  overspreading  it. 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Charles  Metcalf." 

"  By  Jove — he  comes  from  big  people." 

"  What  about  him  ?  "  asked  Griswold. 

"In  what  way  ?  " 

"  Concerning  his  pecuniary  transactions." 

"  I  have  heard  much  of  his  reckless  expenditure  of 
money,  but — " 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  gentle- 
man no  less  than  Frank  Gordon. 


50 


'nm 


LODGE. 


"  Take  a  seat,"  motioned  the  doctor  with  his  hand.  "  I 
will  1)6  through  m  a  moment." 

lie  then  turned  again  to  Doctor  Griswold. 

"  As  I  was  proceeding  to  say,  I  never  heard  anything 
else  very  wrong  about  Charlie  Metcalf." 

"  Didn't  he  have  some  woman  trouble  ?  "  asked  Gris- 
wold. 

"  Don't  exactly  catch  your  meaning." 

"  Didn't  he  get  in  a  scrape  about  some  lady  ?"  inquired 
he,  again. 

•  "  Well,  I  heard  some  iloating  rumor  of  that   kind," 
resi)onded  Campbell,  "  but  never  learned  the  particulars," 

Gordon  almost  started  from  his  chair,  but  restrained 
himself  and  looked  unconcernedly  out  of  the  window. 

"Didn't  he  fail  to  pay  his  debts?"  asked  Doctor  Gris- 
wold. 

■"  Why,  some  years  ago  I  understood  that  he  lived 
beyond  his  means  and  created  liabilities." 

"  AVasn't  he  considered  a  rascal  ?  "  asked  the  doctor 
viciously. 

"  By  no  means,"  responded  the  other.  "His  reputa- 
tion, so  far  as  I  know,  was  that  of  a  reckless,  helter-skelter 
young  man,  as  generous  with  his  money  as  he  was  negligent 
in  transditions  concerning  i1." 

"  But  he  is  a  rascal,  sir !  "  cried  the  doctor,  with  an 
indignant  look. 

Gordon  almost  started  from  his  seat  and  he  flashed  a 
look  towards  Doctor  Griswold  as  dark  as  a  thunder-cloud. 

"  Doctor,  you  had  better  be  careful  as  to  the  language 
you  use  about  Charlie  Metcalty  said  Campbell.  "  The  soil 
of  North  Carolina  never  nurtured  a  more  reckless,  desperate 
character  wdien  aroused,  than  '  That  Bruisin'  Lad  o'  Grey- 
stone  Lodge,'  and  I  would  dislike  to  see  you  incur  his 
displeasure." 

"  Doctor  Campbell,"  said  Goi'd')n,  rsing,  "  I  have  to 
leave  now,  but  I  will  see  vou  aL';ain." 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODOE.  51 

"  What  is  your  name,"  asked  he. 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  doctor,"  and  touching  his 
hat  he  was  oft". 

Descending  the  stairway,  he  scarcely  knew  what  to 
think,  but  he  was  judge  enough  of  human  nature  to  recog- 
nize intuitively  that  the  man  whom  Campbell  addressed 
was  inimical  to  Metcalf.  lie  would  acquaint  Charlie  with 
it  at  once.  Then  he  recollected  he  had  not  heard  the  man's 
name  He  paused  middle-way  upon  the  stairs,  and  turning 
retraced  his  steps. 

"  Doctor  Campbell,  who  is  that  man  sitting  near  you  ?" 
he  asked. 

Both  medical  gentlemen  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"  Griswold  is  my  name,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  recov- 
ered self-possession.     "  What  do  you  want  with  me?  " 

"  Nothing  but  your  name.  Doctor  Griswold,"  he  re- 
sponded, as  he  turned  upon  his  heel  and  left  the  room. 

lie  went  at  once  to  the  Sylvester's  to  find  Metcalf.  His 
first  impulse  was  to  see  Charlie  and  tell  him  all,  but  as  he 
became  cooler  he  saw  that  Avould  never  do.  As  much  as 
he  liked  his  friend  and  disliked  the  doctor,  he  took  enough 
interest  in  humanit}'  not  to  desire  the  latter  to  have  his  head 
punched,  which  he  saw  would  be  the  inevitable  result  if  he 
told  Charlie  all.  Gordon  knew  something  of  the  Bruisin' 
Lad's  temper,  for  he  remembered  having  seen  him  aroused 
once  at  a  tournament,  when  he  committed  fearful  destruc- 
tion on  all  sides  with  a  lance. 

Arriving  at  the  house,  he  looked  for  him  but  found  he 
was  out.  Going  to  his  room,  he  waited  as  patiently  as  ho 
could  until  he  saw  him  enter  the  gate  with  Rosa. 

"I  do  believe  he  is  getting  interested  in  that  girl," 
soliloquized  Frank,  as  he  watched  them  approach.  When 
they  neared  the  porch  he  called  Metcalf. 

Gordon  pitched  into  the  subject  as  soon  as  Charlie  was 
in  the  room. 


52  THAT  BRUISIN'   lad   o'  (JKEVSTONE  LODCt:. 

"  Somebody  here  is  tryinir  to  find  out  souiotliinir  about 
you  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Who?  "  he  inquired,  in  a  surprised  manner. 

"  A  Doctor  Griswold." 

"  What  did  he  desire  to  learn?  " 

"  Something  about  your  private  character/'  replied 
Gordon. 

He  then  informed  MetcaU'all  he  had  heard  in  Camp- 
bell's office,  withholding  the  epithets  of  aljuse  which  Doctor 
Griswold  used.  When  Frarik  came  to  the  part  relating  to 
the  lady,  he  noticed  Metcalf 's  face  [tale  perceptibly,  as  it 
assumed  a  hard,  set  expression. 

"  I  say,  old  chap  !  "  cried  Gordon,  "  we  all  knew  about 
your  extravagance,  and  how  yon  injured  yourself  l)y  it,  but 
you  never  had  any  discreditable  affair  with  any  ladv,  did 
you?." 

Gordon  looked  so  frankly  and  affectionately  at  Metcalf 
that  the  latter  was  completely  disarmed. 

'•  Gordon,"  he  said,  "  I  appreciate  the  nature  and  deli- 
cacy of  your  inquiry  enough  to  remove  any  false  opinions 
which  you  ma}'  entertain  on  that  score.  I  did  have  an 
affair  with  a  lady,  but  it  was  nothing  to  my  discredit,  an<l  if 
the  truth  was  knowni,  you  would  see  that  I  was  grossly 
sinned  against.  At  present  the  interests  of  others  prevent 
my  speaking  as  frankly  as  I  otherwise  would  about  the  mat- 
ter.    My  simple  declaration  will  have  to  suffice  you  now." 

"  Your  word  is  sufficient,"  said  Gordon  warmly,  "  and 
you  have  my  sympathy.  I  did  not  mean  to  pry  into  your 
affiiirs." 

"  Gordon,  did  you  say  that  Griswold  was  going  to  try 
and  find  out  something  from  Ruskin  ?  "  asked  Metcalf. 

"  He  said  he  would  write  to  Ruskin  this  evening." 
"  What  do  you  suppose  is  his  object  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  To  find  out  something  about  that  lady,  if  he  can." 

"  I  must  see  Ruskin  at  once,"  went  on  Charlie.  *'  He 
always  blamed  me  for  keeping  silent,  and   he  might  blurt 


THAT  bruisin'  lab  o'  greystoNE  lodge,  53 

out  something  in  reply  to  Griswold's  letter  wlii(;li  I  do  not 
wish  known." 

"  Can't  you  write  ?  " 

"  Griswold's  letter  might  have  gone  by  now,  :nid 
might  reach  there  earlier  than  mine." 

*'  Wire  then,"  suggested  Frank. 

"  Not  on  a  matter  of  this  kind,"  he  answered  gravely. 
"  T  will  have  to  go." 

"  How  about  3'our  engagement  to  go  to  church  with 
Miss  Reynolds  to-morrow  ?  "  he  jisked. 

"  I  will  return  by  ten-thirty  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Let's  see,"  said  Frank.  "  You  will  be  in  a  rush  all 
the  time.  You  leave  here  at  6:55,  reaching  Etna  at  9:00 
p.  M.,  and  catch  the  Netherville  connection  at  12:00. 
Roland,  your  nearest  station  to  Grcystone  Lodge,  can  be 
made  by  one  o'clock.  The  return  train  leaves  there  at  halt" 
past  two.  You  will  have  only  one  hour  and  thirty  minutes, 
provided  Ruskin  is  on  hand — and  eight  miles  to  go." 

"  I  can  do  it,"  said  Charlie.  "  Spotty  Dimple  can 
bring  me  from  Greystone  Lodge  to  Roland  in  ten  minutes." 

"  You'll  kill  him,  too  !  "  exclaimed  Frank.  "  You  go 
and  get  your  traps  ready  and  I  will  forward  a  telegram  to 
Ruskin.''' 

Metcalf  proceeded  to  write  the  dispatch. 

As  Frank  rushed  oW,  he  said  : 

"  Wire  James  Metcalf,  at  Greystone  Lodge,  to  have  a 
trap  at  Roland  to  meet  me." 

"  All  right,"  cried  Frank,  as  he  went  down  stairs. 

Metcalf  pursued  his  way  leisurely  down  to  arrange 
what  was  necessary  in  the  way  of  linen  to  be  taken  on  his 
trip.  Passing  the  parlor  door  he  paused  a  moment  to  look 
in  ;  the  girls  were  at  the  piano  looking  over  some  music. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  asked  Julia,  turning 
upon  the  stool  and  facing  him. 

"  From  Gordon's  room,"  he  answered. 


54  THAT  bulisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Gordon?  we  want  him  to  play  an 
accompaniment  for  us,"  said  she. 

"  I  sent  him  off." 

"  Then  come  in  and  take  his  place,"  spoke  she  in  a 
commanding  tone. 

Metcalf  came  forward. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,  watch  those  girls ! "  exclaimed  ma 
Sylvester.  "  Whenever  Mr.  Gordon  plays  or  sings  for 
them,  they  invariably  make  faces  at  him  behind  his  back. 
Yoii  are  too  dignified  for  that  sort  of  amusement,  so  I  warn 
you." 

"  Girls,"  he  said,  turning  upon  the  stool,  "you  are  at 
liberty  to  make  just  as  many  faces  as  you  choose,  but  if  I 
catch  either  of  you  in  the  act,  I  will  kiss  you  sure.  So  like 
the  Spartans,  be  w^ary. 

"The  idea!"  exclaimed  both  girls,  simultaneously, 
"  You  have  lost  your  mind  !  " 

He  turned  toward  the  key-board  whilst  a  suppressed 
giggle  might  have  been  heard  from  the  two  girls  behind. 

The  temptation  to  do  wdiat  they  were  forbidden  was 
more  than  the  feminine  nature  of  the  young  ladies  couhl 
bear.  Moreover,  they  felt  sure  he  could  not  see.  lie  had 
scarcely  began  his  music,  when  looking  in  the  bright  ebony 
front  of  the  piano  he  saw  the  two  girls  in  their  reflected 
likenesses,  not  only  making  all  kinds  of  faces,  but  even 
clawing  at  him  in  an  imaginary  way  with  their  fingers. 

Suddenly  he  arose  from  the  piano  and  there  was  a 
scream  and  then  a  rush.  He  caught  Julia,  who  w^^s  behind, 
and  kissing  her  as  quickly  as  he  could,  left  her  all  in  a  heap 
on  the  parlor  floor.  He  rushed  for  the  stairway  up  which 
he  bounded  two  steps  at  a  time  endeavoring  to  overtake 
Rosa.  She  ran  towards  her  room,  but  finding  the  catch  on 
her  door  fastened,  turned  upon  him  like  some  beautiful, 
wild  animal  at  bay. 

"  Don't — don't  kiss  me  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  both  of 
them  paused  for  breath. 


THAT  nUriSIN"    LAD  O'    OREYSTONK  LOlx;!-:.  55 

"  Then  wby  did  you  inakL' a  tlico  iit  me?''  lie  asked, 
Lis  breast  heaving. 

"  I  didn't—'' 

"  Yes  you  did,"  he  interrupted.  "  I  saw  you  ;  I  am 
going  to  kiss  you."     lie  moved  nearer. 

"  Go  back,  Mr.  Metcalf !"  she  almost  shouted,  with  an 
indignant  ring  in  her  voice.  "  You  shall  not  ;  I  will  call 
for  uncle  Sylvester." 

"  I  am  going  to  do  it,"  he  said  grimly,  moving  a  tritle 
nearer.     "  I  kissed  Julia  and  I  am  not  going  tolet  you  oft*." 

"  But  Julia  is  not  so  old  as  I,"  she  said,  the  color  surg- 
ing into  her  cheeks.     "  I  am  a  woman — " 

"  And  as  lovely  and  sweet  a  one  as  ever  was  created," 
he  interrujttHd,  drawing  nearer  still,  wdiilst  his  hot  breath 
fanned  her  cheek,  as  she  shrank  against  the  wall. 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  one  moment. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Metcalf!  "  she  exclaimed,  shivering  all  over, 
"  what  a  curious,  determined  look  you  have !  You  frighten 
me  !  " 

It  was  the  expression  of  the  hitherto  pleasant,  kind 
Metcalf — changed  to  the  set,  determined  look  of  "  That 
Bruisin'  Lad  0'  Greystone  Lodge."  Metcalf  would  have 
kissed  her  then  if  the  act  had  killed  them  both.  He  raised 
his  right  hand. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,  please  don't !  "  she  cried. 

Her  voice  changed  from  the  dctiant  to  the  pleading,  as 
his  face  almost  overshadowed  hers. 

"  You  had  as  well  submit !  "  he  exclaimed  hoarsely, 
raising  his  other  hand. 

She  knew  the  time  had  come,  and  instinctively  placed 
l)oth  hands  over  her  face.  She  made  a  gallant  resistance, 
but  all  tt)  no  eft'ect.  He  caught  her  hands  and  took  them 
from  her  face.  Throwing  his  right  arm  around  her  shoulder 
he  took  possession  of  her  chin,  and  holding  her  face  back, 
kissed  her  soft,  yielding,  mobile  lips — not  with  the  vieAv  of 


56  THAT  BRUISIN'    lad  o'    (JllEYSTONE  LODGE 

paying  any  penalty,  Imt  with  all  the  wealth  and  strength  of 
a  love  which  he  had  never  given  to  any  woman  before. 

Standing  there  after  she  was  released,  not  a  word 
passed  between  them  for  a  moment. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf!"  she  exclaimed,  between  her  gasps  for 
breath,  "  yon  are  downright  mean  !  " 

"  Am  I  ?  "  he  asked,  softly. 

"  Ugh — isn't  it  awfnl !  "  she  cried,  pulling  at  her  hand- 
kerchief    "  Just  think,  to  be  kissed  by  a  real  man  !  " 

"  Were  you  ever  kissed  by  an  imaginary  one  before  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  'No  one  ever  dared  to  try  it !  "  she  exclaimed,  her 
eyes  flashing, 

A  thrill  shot  over  him  as  she  said  that. 

Metcalf  and  Eosa  were  standing  near  the  landing  of 
the  stairway.  Presently  they  heard  a  door  open  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  hall.  A  head  all  tousled  up,  a  neck  with- 
out collar  or  cravat,  was  poked  out  of  the  door,  as  a  voice 
exclaimed  :    "  Marie  !  " 

"  Well  Johnnie — coming,"  answered  Mrs.  Herbert's 
sweet  tones  from  the  opposite  room. 

"  Come — come  on  now,"  he  half  stammered  petulantly. 

"  Can't  you  wait  until  I  get  through?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh — ah — do  come  on  now,  the  l)aby  is  all  alone." 

"  But  you  are  there  with  her,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert. 

"  Oh,  but  it  is  the  woman's  business  to  do  these  things," 
he  said.  "  I  never  saw  such  ladies  as  they  have  in  this 
place.  They  certainly  have  a  soft  snap.  Why,  my  annt 
keeps  house,  cooks  for  eight  people,  cleans  u{)  four  rooms, 
does  all  the  washing  and  ironing,  goes  to  market  and  has 
four  or  five  hours  every  day  to  herself." 

"  I  know  aunt  Lucy  is  a  paragon,"  said  she,  as  she 
entered  their  room.     He  banged  the  door  behind  them. 

"  Why  can't  the  cub  give  his  wife  a  moment's  peace  !  " 
cried  Charlie.     "  Would  you  stand  such  treatment?  " 

"  Not  from  him,"  said  Rosa  flatly. 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  57 

"My  goodness,  it  is  six-fifteeii,  I  will  l>c  late,"  said 
Charlie,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  "Where  are  yon  going,"  she  asked. 

"  I  am  going  to  run  over  to  my  brother's,  but  will  re- 
turn to-morrow.     Good  bye." 

"  Good  night,"  she  returned  softly,  as  he  started  down. 

Leaning  over  the  balustrade,  she  watched  him  in  the 
act  of  descending.  His  dark,  curling,  chestnut  hair  looked 
very  pretty.  She  opened  her  hand  and  moved  it  up  and 
down  as"  if  carressing  something  ;  at  the  same  time  thinking 
how  nice  it  would  be  just  to  pat  his  head  softly. 

On  reaching  the  hall  below  he  met  Gordon. 

"  Got  your  things  ready,"  asked  Gordon. 

"  Have  them  so  in  a  moment,"  he  replied. 

Some  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  afterwards  Metcalf  and 
Gordon  started  for  the  station.  Slowly  pursuing  their  way 
down  the  street,  neither  one  knew  that  Rosa's  lustrous  dark 
eyes  were  watching  Charlie  ;  whilst  her  heart  wished  him 
God-speed  and  a  quick  return. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  modest  John  Sylvester,  the  modest  contractor,  sat 
in  a  modest  way  on  his  fine  piazza  after  tea  during  the  same 
evening  on  which  Metcalf  went  to  Greystone  Lodge.  He 
was  enjoying  the  balmy  weather,  his  cool  front  yard,  and 
wondering  to  himself  why  he  should  have  been  so  fortunate. 
John  was  as  happy  as  a  man  ever  becomes  in  this  world — 
chewing  his  tobacco  and  waiting  for  ma  Sylvester  to  come 
and  tell  him  the  news  of  the  day. 

The  rustle  of  many  clean,  slift' skirts  soon  heralded  her 
approach. 


58  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  O'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  Mr.  Sylvester,"  she  said,  pausing  in  the  doorway, 
"  JuHa  has  gone  out  again  with  that  Mr.  Gordon." 

"  Can't  you  hold  her  in  check  ?  "  he  asked. 

AVlieii  he  thought  of  how  she  held  him  down  he  was 
convinced  that  her  powers  in  that  direction  were  unlimited. 

"  I  can  do  nothing  with  her,"  she  replied.  "  I  never 
saw  anyone  so  thoroughly  self-willed  in  all  my  life.  I  ex- 
pressly warned  her  about  this  Gordon,  'but  she  will  not  pay 
any  attention  to  me." 

"  I  w^ill  see  what  I  can  do  with  her,"  he  said,  as  he  rose 
from  his  chair  to  oft'er  Mrs.  Herbert  a  seat,  who  came  out 
then. 

"  Marie — we  were  just  speaking  of  Julia's  going  with 
that  Gordon  so  macli,"  remarked  ma  Sylvester. 

"  He  seems  to  be  a  very  nice  gentleman,  at  all  events," 
Marie  said. 

"  But  who  is  he — w^hat  money  is  he  got  ?  "  asked  ma 
Sylvester,  who  w^as  rather  careless  about  grammar  when 
she  became  excited. 

"lam  sure  I  know  nothing  about  him,"  she  replied, 
"  but  he  certainly  is  clever  and  an  admirable  judge  of 
human  nature." 

"  That  he  is,"  i'ssented  pa  Sylvester. 

"  Being  a  judge  of  human  nature  doesn't  pay  grocery 
bills,"  remarked  Mrs.  John  logically. 

"Of  course  not,  cousin  Jennie,"  answered  Marie,  "but 
before  you  speak  about  the  matter  to  Julia,  be  sure  and 
know  all  concerning  it.  It  would  be  a  i>ity  to  cross  her 
and  then  find  out  afterwards  that  you  had  made  a  mistake." 
And  Marie  sighed.  She  remembered  what  a  fearful  error 
had  been  committed  in  her  own  case. 

"  I  believe  they  are. becoming  very  nmch  interested  in 
each  other,"  went  on  ma  Sylvester. 

"  I  have  an  idea  they  are  too,"  agreed  Marie. 

"  Where  did  they  go  to-night  ?  "  inquired  pa  Sylvester. 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  59 

"  They  went  to  hear  Dr.  Latrobe  lecture  upon  the 
bible,"  replied  his  wife. 

"  Here  they  come  now ! "  exclaimed  Marie,  as  she 
noticed  two  people  cross  the  street. 

In  a  few  moments  they  had  entered  and  were  seated 
with  the  rest.  For  a  moment  there  was  a  pause  in  the  con- 
versation. 

Then  Marie  asked  : 

"  How  did  you  like  Doctor  Latrobe  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well,"  he  answered.  "  I  think  he  is  as  ^'ood 
as  the  average  clergyman,  although  he  imbibes  many  of 
their  curious  notions  concerning  theology." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  curious  notions,  Mr.  Gordon  ?" 
asked  ma  Sylvester. 

"  AVell,  he  believes  God  punishes  people,  and  that  the 
All-Wise,  Beneficent  Creator  has  a  torturing  place  ready  to 
receive  a  portion  of  humanity  and  listen  to  its  moans  and 
groans." 

"  Mr.  Gordon,  do  you  mean  to  say  there  is  no  future 
place  of  punishment  ? "  asked  ma  Sylvester,  severely. 

"Comparatively  speaking,  there  may  be  one — positively 
there  is  none,"  he  answered,  coolly. 

"  You  are  an  infidfil !  "  she  cried.  "  What  do  you 
uiean  by  the  terms  comparatively  and  positively  ? "  she 
inquired. 

"  I  will  try  and  explain  myself,"  he  answered. 

"  By  all  means  do  so,  Mr.  Gordon,"  spoke  up  Mrs. 
Herbert,  looking  much  interested  in  the  subject. 

"  So  far  as  our  finite  lives  go,"  said  Gordon,  "  we  can 
oul}'  judge  of  the  future  by  our  past  and  present.  Without 
happiness  we  could  never  know  suffering,  aitd  without 
suffering  we  could  never  experience  happiness ;  what  is 
suffering  to  one  person  is  happiness  to  another,  and  what 
may  be  happiness  to  the  one  may  be  suffering  for  the  other. 
This  proposition  is  demonstrated  by  every-day  life  around 
us  ;  the  howling,  profane,  indecent  sinks    of  iniquity,  filled 


60  THAT  BRTISIN*    LAD  0*    GREYSTONE  LODGE 

with  (IrunkeiuicHS  and  crime,  would  aeeni  to  us  ii  place  of 
untold  suffering  and  sorrow.  We  who  tread  the  higher 
walks  in  life,  shudder  when  we  think  of  those  creatures,  and 
pity  them,  hoping  that  some  day  God  will  save  them.  We 
say  they  are  everlastingly  lost.  To  us  such  a  state  is  one  of 
both  unhappiness  and  punishment ;  but  are  they  really 
unhappy  ?  Are  they  really  punished  ?  Do  they  suffer  that 
intense  anguish  which  in  imagination,  causes  us  to  shudder  ? 
We  are  forced  to  admit  that  the  majority  are  happ}',  and 
have  as  much  enjoyment  as  tliey  desire,  or  are  capable  of, 
and  to  place  them  in  Heaven  to-day  would  be  to  render  them 
miserable. 

For  us  who  love  what  is  high,  noble,  good  and  true, 
God  prepares  a  state  in  which  we  will  have  all  the  happi- 
ness vye  are  capable  of.  For  those  who  love  what  is  low% 
degrading,  untrue  and  immoral,  a  state  is  created  in  which 
they  will  have  all  the  enjoyment  they  are  capable  of.  The 
one  kind  of  happiness  is  so  much  superior  to  the  other  that 
the  one  state  is  called  Heaven — the  other  Hell. 

God  leaves  every  man  free  to  choose  as  he  may  desire, 
and  so  far  from  punishing  any  gives  each  one,  unto  which- 
ever state  he  goes,  all  the  happiness  to  be  desired  from  that 
state.  He  is  just,  merciful,  and  so  full  of  loving  kindness, 
that  he  took  upon  himself  human  flesh  and  dwelt  among 
men,  in  order  that  he  might  lead  them  into  this  highest 
state  of  happiness  ;  and  so  great  is  the  one  above  the  other 
that  he  commends  the  one  whilst  he  condemns  the  other. 
He  likens  the  one  to  all  that  is  bright,  happy  and  beautiful, 
the  other  to  all  that  is  gloomy,  dark  and  dreadful." 

For  a  moment  there  w^as  silence. 

"  Mr.' Gordon,"  spoke  up  ma  Sylvester,  "  3'ou  are  an 
intidel ;  the  bible  teaches  us  that  there  are  future  rewards 
and  punishments." 

"  In  the  old  testament,"  went  on  Gordon,  "  there  is 
scarcely  an  allusion  to  a  future  state  of  existence,  let  alone 
any  r  eference  to  its  rewards  and  punishments.     In  the  New 


THAT  BRUISIN*  LAD  0*  GREYSTONE  LODGE.        61 

Testament  Jesus  Christ  used  the  strongest  figurative  lan- 
guage to  demonstrate  the  plainest  facts.  He  holds  out,  side 
by  side,  the  good  and  bad — the  happy  and  unhappy  states. 
He  tells  us  explicitly,  what  excludes  us  from  the  higher — 
what  condemns  us  to  the  lower  state.  In  an  express  descriji- 
tion  in  one  of  the  gospels  of  the  disposition  of  humanity  by 
The  Great  King  hereafter,  those  things  which  lead  us  to 
heaven  are  mentioned,  while  those  excluding  us  are  not  any 
given  number  of  transgressions  committed  by  us,  but  a 
failure  to  perform  those  acts  which  fit  us  for  Heaven,  such 
as  the  exercise  of  charity  and  self-denial.  We  are  informed 
by  Christ  that  if  we  give  our  needy  brethren  food,  drink, 
clothing,  and  visit  them  in  afiliction  and  practice  self-deiiial, 
we  fit  ourselves  for  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  while  the  fail- 
ure to  do  those  things  simply  leave  us  in  a  condition  unfitted 
for  the  enjoyment  of  that  place,  and  we  are  necessarily 
reduced  to  an  existence  in  the  lower  state,  all  through  our 
own  choice,  because  we  prefer  the  happiness  drawn  from 
that  most  and  are  happier  in  doing  evil  than  good." 

"  In  order  to  illustrate  the  immeasurable  difference  be- 
tween the  two  states,  he  not  only  paints  the  happiness  and 
unhappiness  of  each  in  the  most  brilliant  colors,  but  likens 
the  immense  space  between  them  unto  reward  und  punish- 
ment. The  unhappiness  of  the  one  comes  by  comparison 
with  the  happiness  of  the  other,  rather  than  by  any  actual 
punishment.  People  in  this  world,  seated  upon  the  monu- 
ment of  virtue,  look  down  upon  the  plain  of  vice  and  shiver 
at  it's  punishment.  Are  it's  inhabitants  a  miserable  lot  of 
punished  beings  ?  Truth  in  this  case  answers  no,  just  as 
emphatically  as  it  ansAvers  yes,  to  the  question  :  is  not 
Virtue  a  far  superior  order  of  happiness  to  Vice  ?  i' 

"  Those  are  Mr,  Metcalf  s  views,  are  they  not,  Mr. 
Gordon  ?"  asked  Rosa. 

"  I  believe  they  are,"  he  answered. 

"And  I  am  sure  they  are  true,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Rosa  !  "  exclaimed  ma  Sylvester,  "  you  have  lost  your 


62  THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

mind.  You  shall  not  hold  sick  infidel  doctrines."  Ma 
Sylvester,  in  her  excitement  again  forgot  her  grammar. 

"Aunt  Sylvester,  I  can't  help  having  my  opinions," 
said  the  girl  gently. 

"  But  I  don't  allow  young  girls  in  my  house  to  hold 
opinions  without  consulting  me,"  she  replied. 

"  You  may  lock  me  up,  aunt  Sylvester,  but  you  cannot 
prevent  my  thinking — " 

"  But  I  can  stop  you  from  telling  your  thoughts,"  in- 
terrupted her  aunt.     ''  Don't  you  say  any  such  things  again." 

"  Xo,  I  will  not,"  replied  the  girl,  equally  as  gently  as 
she  did  before. 

In  a  few  moments  pa  and  ma  Sylvester  went  in  for  the 
evening,  leaving  the  young  ladies  and  Frank  on  the  piazza. 
The  young  people  had  become  quite  free  and  eas}'  by  this 
this  time,  and  generally  managed  to  be  together  a  great 
deal. 

"  Julia,"  said  Rosa,  "  we  have  him  now,  let's  make  him 
tell  us  all  about  it." 

"  All  about  what  ? "  he  asked  in  a  surprised  tone. 

"  Listen  at  you,  you  little  hypocrite  !  "  exclaimed  Julia, 
looking  archly  at  him.     "Tell  us  all  about  it  now." 

"  Really,  I  am  at  sea,  I  have  no  idea  what  3'ou  are 
alluding  to — please  tell  me  ?  " 

lie  liked  this  young  miss  more  and  more.  Her  quaint, 
charming,  piquant  manners  interested  him  no  less  than  they 
piqued  him  at  times;  and  when  he  asked  her  "please,"  a 
soft  intonation  characterized  his  request,  which  no  one  but 
this  young  miss  of  seventeen  could  command. 

"  Why  the  book  you  are  writing — there  is  an  accotmt 
of  it  in  the  paper  this  evening,"  said  Julia. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  did  not  know  you  were 
alluding  to  that.  Well,  it  is  only  to  be  a  slight  sketch  of 
this  country  and  its  leading  features." 

"  Are  you  going  to  give  us  a  corner  in  it  ? "  asked 
Julia,  demurely. 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  63 

"  That  depends,"  he  smiled. 

"  On  what  ?  "  inquired  she. 

"  On  how  nice  you  are  to  me,"  he  replied. 

"  Well,  then,  we  will  be  vSO  nice  to  you,"  she  said,  cock- 
ing her  little  slippered  foot  against  the  post  unconsciously, 
and  showing  a  model  of  curves  and  lines  which  would  have 
caused  an  artist  to  sigh. 

"  You  girls  don't  stick,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  You  are 
very  nice  to  a  fellow  until  you  get  what  you  want,  and  then 
you  shunt  him  olf." 

"  We  do  no  such  thing!"  cried  Julia,  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  but  you  do,"  he  went  on.  "  The  other  day  you 
wanted  some  rose-buds  and  you  were  both  so  nice  and 
sweet ;  after  you  got  them  you  were  as  cool  as  possible." 

"  But  they  died  afterwards  ;  we  were  real  good  as  long 
as  they  remained  fresh,"  said  she. 

"  Well,  if  you  desire  to  have  a  niche  in  this  wonderful 
sketch,  you  must  tell  me  something  about  yourselves,"  he 
said. 

"  Tell  what?"  asked  Rosa,  "If  we  have  to  tell  you 
what  to  say,  we  had  as  well  write  our  own  histories  our- 
selves." 

"  But  nearly  every  one  here  has  a  sketch  vvritten  of 
himself  on  the  type- writer  and  hands  it  to  me,  begging  that 
I  will  insert  the  whole,  or  make  just  such  use  of  it  as  I  may 
deem  proper,"  he  laughed. 

"  They  don't ! "  exclaimed  Julia. 

"  Yes,  they  do,"  he  said.  "  I  have  two  or  three  in  my 
pocket  now  ;  of  course,  it  is  bad  taste,  and  makes  you  feel 
disgusted  with  the  parties  who  do  it,  unless  you  ask  for  it." 

"  Read  some  of  them  to  us,  won't  you  ?  "  requested 
Julia. 

"  Wouldn't  that  be  a  breach  of  confidence  ?  "  he  asked 
in  reply. 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  that." 

"  But,"  he  proceeded,  "  I  will  tell  you  what  is  in  one  or 


64  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  O'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

two  of  them  without  mentioning  any  names.  Every  one 
thinks  that  he  is  more  or  less  a  public  character  and  has 
been  instrumental  in  confering  some  benefit  upon  mankind, 
lie  prepares  a  personal  sketch  ot  himself,  telling  you  about 
his  parents'  birth  as  well  as  his  own — " 

"  But,  Mr.  Gordon,"  interrupted  Rosa,  "  do  they  not 
know  that  such  facts  can  be  of  no  possible  interest  to  the 
public?" 

"  If  they  know  such  a  thing,  they  fail  sadly  to  recog- 
nize it,"  he  w^ent  on.  "  Another  informs  you  that  he  has 
accumulated  a  great  deal  of  real  estate  in  town,  and  that  he 
began  life  as  a  saw-mill  man  ;  another  that  he  has  the  finest 
house  in  toAvn.  Those  men  really  deserving  the  most  credit 
are  least  known  and  among  the  few  from  whom  you  are 
forced  to  demand  information,  and  who  invariably  refuse 
to  give  it  unless  a  reason  accompanies  the  demand." 

"  How  fond  people  are  of  seeing  themselves  in  print," 
observed  Julia.  "  Unless  I  accomplished  something  which 
would  live  after  I  had  passed  away  I  should  hate  to  be 
mentioned  publicly." 

"  All  people  have  not  your  innate  modesty,  dear," 
said  Rosa.  "  They  want  the  world  to  imagine  they  are 
much  greater  than  they  really  are." 

"  That  is  very  foolish,"  remarked  Gordon.  "  No  one 
can  deceive  people  for  any  great  length  of  time,  because 
they  are  sure  to  be  found  out.  The  exposure  must  be 
extremely  disagreeable,  to  say  nothing  of  the  disgrace.  But 
young  ladies,  it  is  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  and  ma  Sylvester 
will  be  calling  for  you  directly.  Go  and  get  some  beauty 
sleep." 

"  We  flatter  ourselves  that  we  do  not  need  it,"  said 
Julia,  as  they  went  in  and  bade  him  good  evening. 

Rosa  thought  a  great  deal  of  Metcalf  that  night  between 
her  hour  of  prayer  and  sleep.  She  wondered  what  he 
was  doing  at  this  time  and  whether  he  would  return  the 
following  morning  safe  from  his  trip.     "  He  is*  the  manliest 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  65 

man  I  ever  suw,"  she  soliloquized,  us  she  placed  her  hand 
under  her  [»illovv.  She  smiled  in  thinking  of  the  kissing 
scene.  Of  course  he  was  rude — very  mean — and  should 
never  have  been  guilty  of  such  a  thing ;  but  could  he  have 
been  so  nice  if  he  had  not  kissed  her?  Could  she  have 
respected  him  as  much  if  he  had  failed  to  keep  his  word  ?  Of 
course  the  idea  of  her  being  in  love  with  him  was  absurd. 
How  could  she  be  in  love  with  any  man,  unless  he  had  told 
her  of  his  love  and  asked  her  to  l)e  his  wife  ?  Yet,  the  bare 
mention  of  his  name,  the  very  thought  of  him  caused  her 
heart  to  throb  with  a  sensation  that  would  have  been  posi- 
tively painful,  but  for  its  pleasure.  She  recalled  several 
damaging  statements  heard  about  him  lately,  but  did  not 
believe  any  of  those  nasty  things  said,  and  experienced  a 
positive  feeling  of  pride  swell  in  her  bosom  when  she 
thought  of  his  elegant,  cool  wa}'  of  carrying  himself,  and 
his  immeasurable  superiority  in  everything  to  those  who 
talked  about  him.  As  unconsciousness  gradually  seized 
her  she  fancied  he  was  standing  over  her  with  his  quiet,  easy 
smile  —  looking  down  upon  her  in  that  earnest,  eager 
way,  which  always  cause.d  such  queer  little  thrills  to  creep 
over  her. 


CHAPTER  Vm. 


The  evening  shadows  were  fast  deepening  into  the 
darkness  of  night  around  the  tenements  of  Stoddart  Court 
House,  as  a  small  boy  traversed  the  rickety  sidewalk  up  the 
main  street  with  a  yellow  paper  in  his  hand.  He  was 
carrying  a  telegram  to  Major  J.  W.  Ruskin,  the  leading 
lawyer  of  that  section  of  country,  and  commonwealth's 
attorney  as  well. 


66  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge. 

At  that  very  moment  Major  Ruskiii  was  seated  in  liis 
library,  reading  the  evening  papers,  contented  with  the 
world  and  in  a  good  hnmor  with  everyone.  The  world 
around  Stoddart  Court  House  had  treated  him  well. 
Twenty  years  ago  he  had  landed  there  with  a  beautiful 
young  wife  and  twenty-five  cents  in  his  pocket.  By  dint 
of  dogged  application  and  close  attention  to  business,  but 
mainly  through  the  countenance  and  patronage  of  Mrs. 
Nannie  Metcalf,  he  had  accumulated  a  fiue  estate  and 
gotten  a  lucrative  practice.  He  drove  his  pair  of  blood 
bays,  gave  fine  entertainments  to  his  neighbors,  and  lived 
in  an  elegant  residence  on  the  outskirts  of  the  place.  His 
wife  had  been  a  great  beauty  in  her  young  days,  and  even 
now,  some  forty  years  had  not  completely  destroyed  the 
remains  of  it.  She  had  made  the  major  an  admirable 
help-meet,  and  as  she  handed  him  the  telegram,  accom- 
panied the  act  with  a  loving  smile  and  bright  look. 

"  Any  bad  news  ?  "  she  asked,  as  he  read  the  dispatch. 

"  ISTo,  you  can  read  it  yourself,"  he  said,  handing  it  to 
her. 

She  took  it,  and  read  as  follojvs. 

"  Shirly,  X.  C,  May  29th,  1884. 
Major  J.  W.  Ruskin, 

Stoddart  Court  House,  N.  C. 
Chas.    Metcalf  says   meet   him    half    past  one  o'clock 
to-night  at  Greystone  Lodge. 

Frank  Gordon." 

"  Charlie  Metcalf  is  in  trouble  of  some  sort,"  said  his 
wife,  looking  up  from  the  telegram."  Go  right  out  and 
see  what  you  can  do  for  him.  There  is  something  strange 
about  him.  I  never  could  divine  why  he  should  have  left 
that  lovely  young  wife  of  his.  She  is  so  beautiful,  so  bright 
and  nice." 

"  He  lias  a  good  reason  for  it,"  said  he.  "  Metcalf  is 
not  a  man  to  leave  his  wife  without  a  reason." 

"  You  always  said  that,"  she  retorted,  rather  petu- 
lantly, "  but  you  never  would  tell  it." 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  67 

"  I  have  no  right  to  tell  my  client's  secrets,"  he  spoke, 
with  an  amused  smile. 

"  You  ought  to  tell  your  wife  everything,"  she  said. 
"  I  will  have  the  carriage  ordered.  You  can  remain  at  the 
Lodge  all  night,  as  Sue  Metealfwill  take  the  best  care  of  you." 

"  Very  good,"  he  replied,  as  he  rose  to  prepare  him- 
self for  the  journey. 

In  a  few  moments  he  w^as  bowling  along  towards  Grey- 
stone  Lodge,  whilst  the  shadows  of  the  moon  played  hide 
and  seek  about  the  roadside  and  over  the  horses'  backs. 
He  tried  to  think  what  Charlie  Metcalf  wanted  with  him. 
The  time  had  been  Avhen  he  would  have  known  it  was  some 
money  trouble;  but  of  late  years  Charlie  had  ceased  to 
trouble  any  one  on  that  score.  He  concluded  then  it  was 
something  connected  with  the  lady  Metcalf  had  suddenly 
married  some  ten  years  ago,  and  as  suddenly  left. 

Major  Ruskin  had  long  been  the  legal  adviser  of  the 
Metcalf  people  and  knew  most  of  their  family  secrets.  He 
alone,  except  Charlie  and  his  so-called  wife,  knew  why 
Metcalt  had  left  and  taken  the  upbraiding  of  the  world 
rather  than  remain  wdth  her,  and  in  his  heart  had  admired 
the  man  for  sacrificing  himself  to  save  this  woman  from 
untold  trouble — her  reputation  from  the  comment  and 
criticism  of  curious,  prying  strangers.  And  he  had  kept 
the  secret  well,  too,  never  mentioning  it  to  a  human  soul 
except  Metcalf,  and  only  to  him  when  it  was  absolutely 
necessary.  He  valued  highly  the  friendship  and  good 
opinion  of  Charlie's  mother,  whose  kindness  in  early  life  to 
him  often  sealed  his  mouth,  wdien  otherwise  he  would 
have  doubtless  rated  the  vounfirman  soundlv  for  his  extrava- 
gance  and  folly  in  matters  concerning  money. 

He  was  a  little  surprised  on  reaching  Greystone  Lodge 
to  lind  that  Charlie  Metcalf  was  not  there  James  informed 
him  that  he  was  expected  ;  he,  too,  had  received  a  telegram, 
but  was  as  much  at  sea  as  Major  Ruskin  as  to  the  cause  of 
Charlie's   sudden  visit. 


68  THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    UREYSTONE  LODGEl. 

"  Major,  have  yon  an  idea  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  he 
asked,  when  they  were  seated  in  the  library. 

"  I  haven't  the  o^liost  of  an  idea,"  he  rephed.  "  At 
first  I  imagined  tliat  he  mii;-ht  be  in  some  money  trouble, 
but  I  soon  thought  that  I  must  be  mistaken,  because  for  the 
past  two  or  three  years  he  lias  been  particularly  free  from 
such." 

"  I  believe  it  is  something  concerning  his  wife  which 
brings  him  here  so  quickly,"  suggested  James  Metcalf. 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?  "  inquired  the  Major,  feign- 
ing surprise. 

"  Because,  that  whole  affair  has  been  such  a  curious 
one,"  he  replied.  "  Just  think  !  Charlie  married  this  beau- 
tiful, wealthy  young  girl  and  in  a  few  months,  without 
apparent  ryme  or  reason,  left  her  and  refused  to  live  with 
her  afterwards  and  won't  tell  anyone  but  you  why  he  acted 
so  infernally  strange.  Of  course  the  boy  had  some  ground 
for  behaving  in  sucli  a  queer  manner,  l)ut  he  might  have 
told  us  something  about  it.  Many  people  think  that  he 
wilfully  deserted  her." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  he  ever  told  me  why  he  left  ?" 
asked  Major  Ruskin,  calmly. 

"  Oh,  Charlie  told  you.  I  am  sure  of  that  from  a 
remark  he  made  to  me,"  answered  James.  "  And  Major,  I 
would  be  so  glad  if  you  were  to  let  me  know  the  reason.  I 
will  never  say  one  word  about  it.  His  wife  is  so  nice  in 
every  way  ;  so  irreproachable  in  her  conduct,  that  I  cannot 
divine  why  he  should  have  left  her — yet  there  must  be  some 
reason  for  it." 

"  I  will  say  that  he  had  ample  grounds  for  his  conduct, 
James,"  said  Major  Ruskin.  "  For  the  present,  I  am  not  at 
liberty  to  say  anything  as  to  the  cause." 

"  I  wish  you  would  endeavor  to  persuade  him  to  tell 
me  when  he  comes  to-night,"  said  the  other. 

"  I  will  advise  him  to  do  so,"  replied  the  Major, 
frankly. 


THAT  BRUISIN*   LAD  o'   QREYSTONE  LODGE.  69 

The  subject  of  this  discussion  at  this  moment  was  just 
getting  from  the  train  at  Roland  some  four  miles  from 
Greystone  Lodge.  Burwell,  the  groom,  took  his  tra]).*:  and 
escorted  him  to  the  buggy  waiting  for  him  on  the  otfside  of 
the  station-house.  Whilst  his  valise  was  being  put  away 
he  asked  Burwell  a  question  or  two  about  his  horses,  with 
reference  to  the  time  it  would  take  them  to  convey  him  to 
Greystone  Lodge. 

"  It  is  now  half  past  one,"  said  Charlie,  looking  at  his 
watch.  "  You  can  take  me  there  by  two  o'clock,  can't 
you  ?  " 

"  To  be  sho'  sah,  I  ken,"  he  replied. 

"  Burwell,  is  Spotty  Dimple  in  good  condition,"  he 
asked. 

"  Prime  srdi — same  ez  a  young  ole  bar',"  answered  the 
darkey. 

"  Well,  I  have  to  return  here  Iw  three  o'clock  to  catch 
the  east-bound  train,  I  want  some  one  to  take  Spotty  on 
my  return,  as  I  shall  ride  him  back.     Who  can' I  get?" 

"  Lem'me  see,"  said  he,  scratching  his  head.  "  Mars 
Charlie,  I  tell  you  what  do ;  you  knows  de  way  to  de  Lodge, 
you  drive  thar  en  I  will  stay  here  an'  git  Si)otty  wlien  you 
come  back.  De  Efarailtonia  horse  an'  Charlie  boy — de 
same  you  used  to  drive — is  hooked  in  to-night,  en  dey  take? 
you  to  de  Lodge  'fo'  you  ken  say  scat." 

Metcalf  was  soon  seated  in  the  light  vehicle  and  having 
gathered  his  reins,  gave  the  horses  Ihe  word  go.  He  knew 
every  inch  of  the  road  to  Greystone  Lodge,  and  was  certain 
that  he  could  cover  the  four  miles  in  twenty  minutes,  unless 
the  team  had  lost  tlieir  power  of  traveling.  They  could 
trot  their  mile  in  three  minutes  on  good  road,  and  easily 
keep  it  up  for  five  miles.  He  made  the  first  half  a  mile  in 
five  minutes,  over  hill  and  stone,  when  he  came  to  the  low 
grounds  along  which  the  road  ran  next  to  the  railroad  for 
two  miles;  on  reaching  it  he  let  the  team  out,  and  they 
seemed  to  fly  until  he  came  to  the  railroad  crossing,  which 


70  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge 

brought  him  into  the  Box  Hill  estate  belonging  to  his  uncle, 
Alex.  Metcalf.  In  about  five  minutes  after  passing  the  rock 
wall  around  Box  Hill,  he  drew  up  before  the  heavy  stone 
piazza  at  Greystone  Lodge. 

"  Is  that  you,  Charlie  ? "  asked  his  brother,  coming 
from  the  door. 

"  Yes — send  me  a  boy  to  take  these  horses — whoa 
Frank  ! — is  Ruskin  here  ?  " 

"  Yes — wait  a  moment,  until  I  call  Charlie  Alderson." 

Metcalf  quietly  remained  in  the  buggy  until  the  servant 
came. 

"  What  caused  you  to  come  so  suddenly  ?  "  inquired 
his  brother. 

"  Why,  I  was  obliged  to  see  Ruskin  a  moment  and  had 
no  time  to  wait,"  he  answered,  as  they  entered  the  hall.  "  I 
have  to  return  on  that  three  o'clock  train  and  it  is  nearly 
two  now." 

"  Good  gracious,  man  !  "  exclaimed  his  brother,  "  you 
can't  doit  unless  you  go  du*ectly  back." 

"  Yes  I  can,"  he  returned,  "  Let  me  have  Spotty  Dim- 
ple to  ride  back  to  Roland  at  fifteen  minutes  to  three  and 
I  will  get  through  snugly." 

"  Well  then,"  said  his  brother,  "  I  Avill  give  the  orders 
about  Spotty,  while  you  go  in  and  see  the  Major." 

"  And  James,  mind  you  don't  let  anyone  disturb  us 
until  I  ask  for  you,"  he  called  out  as  his  brother's  figure 
receded. 

"  So  you  are  here  once  more,"  spoke  the  major,  as  he 
entered  the  library. 

"  Yes,  how  are  you,  major  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  well — may  be  older  than  when  you  last 
saw  me,"  he  replied.  "  I  heard  you  inform  James  a 
moment  ago  that  you  had  to  return  at  once,  so  if  you  will 
state  what  you  want  with  me,  I  will  give  you  my  earnest 
attention." 

"  I  wanted  to  post  you  as  to  something,   and   advise 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  71 

with  you  concerning  a  matter  which  has  sprung  up  recently." 

"  I  am  all  attention,"  he  said  calmly,  seating  himself. 

"  I  have  been  in  Shirly  for  a  month,  and  for  some 
unknown  reason  to  me,"  proceeded  Charlie,  "a  Doctor  Gris- 
wold  has  been  making  inquiries  about  my  character.  He 
saw  Doctor  Harry  Campbell,  who  advised  him  to  write  to 
you.  He  wants  to  iind  out  something  about  my  '  woman 
scrape,'  as  he  terms  it,  an  wrote  you  concerning  it  to-day. 
I  wanted  to  be  sure  that  you  told  him  nothing,  and  also  to 
ask  your  advice  about — about — " 

"  Well,  about  what?"  asked  Major  Ruskin,  as  Charlie 
stammered  a  little. 

"  About  marrying  in  my  present  position,"  he  blurted 
out,  blushing  furiously. 

"So  you  have  fallen  in  love  at  last,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  major,  I  am  hard  hit." 

"  Who  is  the  young  lady  ?  " 

"A  Miss  Rosa  Reynolds.  Her  family  reside  in  Etna  at 
present." 

"  Any  relation  to  the  Reynolds  who  live  about  Lancing 
Court  House  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  yes,"  replied  Metcalf.  "  Her  father  came  from 
that  family." 

"  Then  isn't  any  discussion  unnecessary  ?  Don't  you 
know  you  can't  marry  that  girl  ?  "  he  asked,  gazing  coolly 
into  Metcalf 's  face. 

"  And  why  not  that  girl,"  he  demanded,  with  a  slight 
inflexion  of  irritation  in  his  voice. 

"  Do  you  think  your  people  would  sanction  or  allow 
such  an  alliance  ?     Wasn't  her  father  a  working  man  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  man  who  earned  his  livlihood  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brow,"  replied  Charlie.  "  But  you  know  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  loving  a  girl  enough  to  marry  her  in  the 
teeth  of  your  family,  nolens  volens."  And  a  peculiar,  grim, 
set  expression  came  over  the  face  of  The  Bruisin'  Lad. 


72  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge. 

"Do  you  love  that  girl  enough  to  do  that  thing?" 
asked  he. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  he  answered. 

"  Then,  if  that's  your  determination,  a  discussion  is  not 
unnecessary,"  he  said. 

"Can  I  marry  without  a  divorce  from  the  other 
woman  ?"  atsked  Metcalf. 

"  And  not  commit  higaniy,  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  in 
reply. 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  should  most  emphatically  say  you  can,"  he 
said.  "  Your  marriage  was  a  void  one  ab  initio,  and  heing 
such  you  are  free  to  marry  Miss  lieynolds  to-morrow,  if 
she  will  have  you." 

"  If  she  will  have  me  !  "  exclaimed  Metcalf,  "  I  have 
never  spoken  a  word  of  love  to  her  yet  and  don't  know 
that  I  will ;  so  I  cannot  say  what  she  will  do  on  that  score." 

"  I  should  not  have  said  anything  about  that,"  went 
on  the  Major,  "  but  you  are  so  accustomed  to  having  what 
you  wish — of  making  people  go  as  you  will — that  I  thought 
it  probable  you  had  not  taken  such  a  thing  into  considera- 
tion. Though  you  are  not  legally  bound  to  the  lady  whom 
the  world  says  is  your  wife,  and  are  free  to  contract  any 
alliance  you  may  choose,  yet  under  the  circumstances,  any 
young  girl  would  pause  and  consider  well  before  marrying 
you." 

"  If  she  loved  me  properly,  I  am  sure  she  would  marry 
me,"  he  said  proudly,  "  I  would  not  give  a  fig  for  a  woman 
who  could  not  give  up  the  last  friend  she  had  to  marry  the 
man  of  her  choice." 

"  Well,  there  may  be  some  who  are  willing  to  do  it," 
asserted  the  Major  ;  "  When  a  woman  loves  a  man,  there  is 
no  saying  what  amount  of  foolish  things  she  will  not  com- 
mit to  marry  him.  I  think  your  position  is  one  of  peculiar 
hardship,  and  if  the  truth  was  known  you  would  not  only 
be  exonerated,  but  have  the  sympathy  of  everyone.       My 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.        73 

a'dvice  to  you  now  is  to  siin[)ly  deny  you  were  ever  married 
in  the  past.  Of  course  there  will  be  some  people  who  can- 
not understand  it,  yet  as  a  matter  of  fact  you  have  never 
been  married,  althougli  at  one  time  you  believed  you  were. 
The  statute  of  Pennsylvania  bars  any  prosecution  for 
bio;amy,  so  far  as  your  former  wife  is  concerned,  because 
more  tlian  five  years  have  elapsed  since  her  marriage  with 
you.  So  now  I  should  say  if  your  marriage  with  Miss  Rey- 
nolds is  necessary  for  your  happiness,  and  she  is  willing,  by 
all  means  consummate  it  as  early  as  possible.  Of  course, 
when  you  address  her,  tell  her  all ;  or  I  would  advise  you 
to  acquaint  her  parents  with  the  state  of  afiairs  before  you 
even  speak  with  her." 

I  shall  certainly  not  be  guilty  of  anything  dishonor- 
able," said  Metcalf,  looking  steadily  at  Major  Ruskin,  "  I 
shall  tell  her  people  the  wliole  truth  and  not  withhold  a 
single  fact." 

"  And  her  people  will  doubtless  raise  all  manner  of 
objections,  when  you  do,"  he  replied. 

"  Why  so  ?  "  asked  Charlie. 

"  Can't  you  see  ?  "  inquired  the  other,  "  you  have  the 
reputation  of  being  a  married  man,  and  though  those 
immediately  concerned  will  know  the  truth,  yet  the  world 
at  large  av ill  not ;  such  an  existing  state  of  things  will  cause 
more  or  less  disagreeable  comment  which  not  even  her 
family  will  stand,  though  an  alliance  with  the  Metcalf 's  is 
the  result." 

"  If  she  loves  me  and  is  willing  to  marr}^  me,  I  am  sure 
both  sides  of  the  house  wiil  have  to  put  up  with  if,"  he 
said,  smiling  grimly. 

"  Where  is  the  lady  now  wdiom  you  believed  to  be 
your  wife  at  one  time  '{  "  he  inquired. 

"  She  is  in  Maryland." 

"  What  is  she  doing  ?  " 

"  Staying  with  her  aunt." 

"  Metcalf,  she  is  a  wonderful  woman,"  he  said.     "  Her 


74  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

conduct  has  been  irreproachable  excej)t  for  this  one  thing ; 
she  was  very  luuch  achiiired  at  the  springs  last  summer." 

"  I  know  it ;  had  I  loved  her,  I  would  have  stood  by 
her  until  death.  I  made  a  sad,  sad  mistake  in  ever  having 
married  her  when  I  cared  nothing  for  her." 

"  Your  l)rother  James  asked  me  to  tell  him  why  you 
refused  to  live  with  that  woman,"  went  on  the  major.  "  I 
told  him  that  I  would  advise  you  to  let  him  know  the 
reason.     You  had  l)etter  acquaint  him  with  the  truth." 

Metcalf  thought  a  moment. 

"  x\fter  I  am  gone,"  he  said,  "  you  tell  him  all  about  it, 
Won't  y(m?     I  shall  not  have  time  to-night." 

"Of  course  I  will,"  he  replied,  "and  I  thiidc  you  act 
wisely  in  allowing  me  to  do  so," 

"  And  please  shut  up  ttiat  infernal,  prying  doctor  if  he 
writes,"  demanded  Charlie. 

"  Don't  have  any  fears  on  that  score,"  laughed  the 
major,  "  I  will — " 

"  Charlie,"  interrupted  James,  "  Spotty  is  ready  and 
you  have  only  fifteen  minutes  to  make  it  in." 

"  You  can't  make  it  Metcalf,"  said  the  major. 

"  Yes,  I  must,"  replied  he,  rising  from  his  seat. 
"  James,  Major  Kuskin  will  tell  you  all." 

"  I  am  so  glad,  Charlie,"  he  said.  "  Come  and  see  me 
when  you  have  more  time." 

"  I  will,"  said  he,  seizing  his  hat  and  rushing  tor  the 
front  piazza,  followed  by  the  other  two. 

The  horse  which  was  to  carry  him  to  Honald  in  thirteen 
minutes  was  a  large  piebald  animal,  of  wonderful  power 
and  build.  Standing  in  the  silvery  light  of  the  moon  he 
was  a  perfect  picture,  from  the  small  expressive  ears  to  the 
high  placed  tail -bone  on  his  rump.  When  standing,  his 
nostril  exhibited  a  portion  of  its  deep  red  membrane  lining, 
and  was  as  thin  and  delicate  as  a  wafer.  His  neck  was 
beautitully  arched,  sloping  easily  towards  the  highstanding 
withers,    whilst  his  back  was  almost  level  and  very  short. 


THAT  BRUISIn'    lad  0*    GREYSTONE  LOt)(iE.  75 

Metcalf  had  rimlen  Spotty  Dimple  at  many  a  tournament 
and  knew  his  powers  well. 

When  he  announced  himself  ready  to  mount,  the 
groom  hegan  to  wipe  the  saddle  skirts  with  a  wet  sponge. 
Scarcely  had  he  commenced  his  task  before  the  horse 
exhibited  decided. signs  of  restiveness. 

"  Spotty  Dimple  thinks  you  are  fixing  him  for  a 
tournament,"  remarked  James  Metcalf  to  the  groom. 

In  a  minute  all  was  ready.  Metcalf  mounted,  and  the 
moment  his  legs  pressed  the  horse's  sides,  the  latter  knew 
it  was  the  Bruisin'  Lad,  and  began  to  corvet  and  plunge, 
whilst  the  groom  adjusted  the  stirrup  leathers.  When  the 
latter  stood  aside  and  Metcalf  loosened  the  reins,  the  horse 
bounded  forward,  almost  unseating  Charlie. 

The  gentlemen  and  groom  watched  him  as  he  disap- 
l»eared  down  the  carriage  way  towards  the  front  gate. 

"  Is  the  gate  open,  Alderson  ?  "  asked  James,  of  the 
groom. 

"  No  sail — but  Mars  Charlie  ain't  a-earing,"  answered 
he. 

They  moved  out  a  little  to  get  a  better  view  of  the 
vanishing  horseman.  As  he  neared  the  gate  the  horse 
swerved  to  the  left  and  took  the  palings  at  a  flying  leap. 

"  Hi — ies'  look  thar — I  sed  so.  Mars  Charlie  took  'im 
ober  samer  den  a  crow  could  fly,"  said  the  groom,  in  an 
exultant  manner. 

"  Reckon  he  will  make  it  in  time,  Alderson?"  asked 
the  Major. 

"  To  be  sho'  Mars  Major,  'case  ole  Spotty  Dimple  so 
glad  to  git  De  Bruisin'  Lad  on  him  once  mo',"  replied  he, 
as  the  gentlemen  moved  into  the  house. 

The  Bruisin'  Lad  well  knew  what  powers  Spotty  had 
if  he  was  handled  properly.  As  soon  as  the  fence  was 
cleared  he  began  to  pull  the  horse  down  to  his  work. 
Spotty  was  in  for  fun  and  disposed  to  do  his  best  on  the 
start.     Metcalf  could  feel  his  powerful    under-jaw  working 


76  THAT  BKUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LOD(iE 

to  catch  the  shank  of  the  bit  in  liis  month  ;  at  last  he 
accomplished  it.  lie  hoUed  forward  with  renewed  vie;or, 
hut  by  a  peculiar  twist  of  his  elbow,  The  Brnisin'  Lad  dis- 
lodged it  and  regained  possession  of  his  mouth.  By  this  time 
they  had  reached  an  ascent  composed  of  round  stones  and 
gravel  known  as  "The  Rock}^  Knoll ;"  the  round  rocks  and 
gravel  flew  in  every  direction  as  the  powerful  animal  ])lunged 
forward  heedless  of  all  except  his  own  wild  excitement  and 
the  fact  that  The  Bruisin'  Lad  was  astride  him;  he  was 
getting  down  to  sober,  cool  work  fairly  well  now.  On,  on 
he  flew  around  the  rock  wall  inclosing  Box  Hill  grounds, 
scariug  the  l)irds  from  the  lilac  bushes  as  he  swept  past 
them;  on,  on  through  the  beautiful,  rolling  lands  of  the 
plantation  until  the  overseer's  quarters  were  reached ;  here 
Metcalf  ran  his  hand  over  the  horse's  shoulder,  as  white 
flecks  of  foam  flew  back  over  him  every  time  the  uoble  ani- 
mal tossed  his  head. 

"  You'll  make  it.  Spotty  Dimple,"  he  muttered,  in  a 
carressing  toue  as  he  checked  him  slightly  in  his  mad 
career. 

They  were  neariug  the  railroad  now.  Metcalf  heard 
the  train  whistle  for  the  crossing  ;  he  knew  if  he  cliecked 
up  much  time  would  be  lost,  so  raising  himself  in  his  stir- 
rups, he  shouted  : 

"  Go  ! " 

The  horse  bounded  forward  as  if  he  was  shot ;  it  was 
the  old,  old  signal  The  Bruisin'  Lad  used  to  give  in  sti'rting 
him  on  a  race.  He  reached  out  his  arched  neck  until  it 
seemed  to  the  rider  that  he  was  almost  lying  flat  upon  the 
ground ;  as  he  came  withiu  a  few  feet  of  the  crossing  he 
cleared  the  track  at  a  tremendous  leap  and  whirled  to  his 
left,  almost  throwing  the  Bruisin'  Lad  from  the  saddle. 
They  were  now  on  tlie  low-ground,  level  road,  with  almost 
a  straight  shoot  to  the  station.  Charlie  knew  he  must  out- 
strip the  train  to  take  a  passage  u[)on  it ;  Spott}'  seemed  to 
understand  it  as  well,    for   he   chafed   fearfully    as    Metcalf 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGS.        T7 

pulled  him  in,  until  thev  were  opposite  Wilton,  about  one 
mile  from  Roland.  He  was  just  behind  the  rear  eoacli,  and 
once  more  he  stood  in  his  stirrups  and  shouted  : 

"  Go  !  " 

Once  more  the  noble  beast  went  forward  with 
increased  speed  ;  as  he  tore  onwards,  Gradually  overtaking 
the  steaming  engine,  both  rider  and  horse  seemed  to  grow 
wild;  cheer  after  clieer  rose  from  Metcalf  as  Spotty  Dimple 
craned  out  his  arched  neck,  laid  his  ears  close  to  his  head 
and  rushed  forward  like  a  streak  of  lightning.  When  the 
train  began  to  check  up  for  the  station,  Metcalf  went  ahead 
and  took  S})Otty  Dimple  up  at  the  platform  as  the  train 
came  thundering  around  tbe  curve.  The  great  horse's  lungs 
worked  like  a  pair  of  l)ellows  as  Metcalf  dismounted  and 
the  blankets  were  thrown  over  him. 

"  He  made  it,  didn't  he  Mars  Charlie  ?  ''  asked  Burwell, 
throwing  his  arm  around  the  horse's  neck. 

"  He  (hd  it  in  eleven  minutes  and  a  half,"  said  he, 
looking  at  his  watch  and  handing  the  groom  some  loose 
coin.    "  Take  care  of  him  and  tell  James  never  to  sell  him." 

In  a  few  moments  Metcalf  was  arranging  his  berth  in 
the  sleeper,  preparatory  to  his  journey  back  to  Shirly. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  Mr.  Gordon,  I  am  shocked  at  you  !  I  am  surprised 
at  you  !  I  am  just  as  mad  as  I  can  be  !  I  think  you 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  I  "  exclaimed  Julia,  as 
Gordon  stood  between  her  and  the  parlor  door  to  prevent 
her  exit. 

The  foregoing  exclamatory  remarks  dealt  out  so 
unspairingly   by  the    usually  quiet    Julia   Sylvester,   were 


78  tHAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  (jreystone  lodge. 

uttered  about  four  or  five  days  after  Metcalfs  return  from 
Grey  stone  Lodge. 

"  Let  me  bv,  Mr.  Gordon  I  "  cried  Julia,  imperiously. 

"  Xot  until  you  hear  what  I  have  to  say,"  he  replied 
ealmly. 

"  You  know  you  don't  mean  a  word  you  say,"  she 
Avent  on.       "  You  have  no  right  to  say  such  things  to  me." 

"  Julia  Sylvester — I  love  you,"  he  said,  his  lips  quiver- 
ing perceptibly  as  he  uttered  the  words.  "  Untutored  as 
you  are,  young  as  you  may  be,  unbelieving  as  you  sa}'  you 
are,  all  the  same  you  are  the  only  woman  I  ever  cared  for, 
or  who  could  make  my  heart  beat  faster.  From  almost  the 
Urst  moment  I  ever  knew  you  I  have  loved  you,  and  you 
have  shown  me  very  conclusively  that  I  am  nothing  to  you. 
None  the  less  I  want  some  day  to  call  you  wife  " 

"  The  idea  of  your  talking  to  me  in  such  a  manner  ! 
I  am  only  seventeen  and  have  not  left  school.  Had  you 
really  cared  for  me,  I  am  sure  you  would  have  waited  until 
I  was  a — a — grown  lady.  My  mother  doesn't  even  allow 
me  to  receive  visitors  yet." 

"  I  can't  help  all  that,"  he  said. 

"  You  need  not  have  tried  to  make  fun  of  me,"  she 
proceeded.  "  Because  you  were  in  the  house  and  saw  me 
daily,  you  ought  not  to  have  taken  advantage  of  such  oppor- 
tunities to  follow  me  around  so  conspicuously,  to  cause  peo- 
ple to  think  I  was  in  love  with  you,  and  try  to  make  fun ' 
of  me  by  telling  me  that  a  man  of  the  world  like  you,  could 
love — I  mean,  care  for  a  chit  like  me.  It  is  downright 
ipiean." 

Gordon  had  borne  a  great  deal  on  account  of  his  love 
for  the  girl,  and  her  youth  ;  he  rose  in  arms  at  her  con- 
tinued accusations.  In  the  excitement  of  the  moment, 
Julia  had  forgotten  much.  She  failed  to  recognize  that 
Gordon  had  not  intruded  himself  upon  her,  and  that  his 
frequent  attentions  and  companionship  had  not  appeared 
unacceptable  to  her. 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  O'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  70 

"  Miss  Julia,"  he  said,  with  a  fixed  expression  upon 
Ills  face,  "  I  am  sorry  jou  should  think  that  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  lessen  your  amusement  in  any  way,  or  kee})  others 
trom  paying  you  attention.  I  did  not  intend  to  do  that. 
In  the  future  I  shall  try  not  to  intrude  upon  you  in  any 
way  ;  and  now  you  can  pass  out," 

lie  opened  the  door,  but  she  did  not  move  a  step. 
Womanlike,  she  stood  perfectly  still,  twisting  her  hands 
around  her  apron.  Gordon  waited  a  moment  until  she 
seemed  not  disposed  to  go,  and  then  marched  out  himself. 

That  was  the  thing  above  all  others  which  Julia  did 
not  wish  to  be  done.  She  had  become  so  accustomed  to 
Gordon's  obedience  to  her  least  wish,  that  any  expression  of 
ideas  on  his  part  not  coinciding  with  her  views  of  the  fit- 
ness of  things,  was  rank  treason  on  his  part.  Way  down  in 
her  sweet,  true  little  heart,  she  had  already  been  building 
castles  in  the  air.  She  had  pictured  to  herself  how  the  nice, 
agreeable  Gordon  should  continue  on  her  devoted  admirer 
for  several  years  to  come,  and  when  she  had  finished  her 
round  of  gaities,  had  a  good  square  fling  at  society,  then 
Gordon  would  throw  himself  at  her  feet,  and  all  would  go 
as  merry  as  a  marriage-bell. 

Xow  all  had  been  spoilt  by  his  untimely  declaration. 
Of  course  sooner  or  later  ma  would  have  to  know  it,  and 
then  there  would  be  a  scene. 

"  He  is  so  hateful !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  don't  like  him 
one  bit !  " 

Standing  there  on  the  floor  his  fine  face  came  before 
her,  with  his  curling  chestnut  hair,  chiseled  features,  agree; 
able,  charming  manners,  and  lier  heart  succumbed. 
Throwing  herself  ui)()n  the  sofa,  she  burst  into  tears.  It 
Avas  in  this  position  that  Rosa  found  her. 

"  Why,  Julia,  dear  !  "  she  cried,  "what  is  the  nuitter  ?  " 

"■  Nothing,"  replied  she,  endeavoring  to  hide  her  face. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Nothing.'* 


80  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  Julia,  something  has  happened,"  said  Rosa.  "Didn't 
I  meet  Mr.  Gordon  rushing  upstairs,  liis  face  white  with 
anger?  And  then  I  eonie  in  here  and  find  you  crying. 
Tell  rae,  did  you  and  he  have  a  (puirrel  ?" 

"  I  hate  him,"  she  cried.  "  He  is  so  mean  and 
disagreeable  !   he  is  downright  nast;y  !  " 

"  Yes,  he  is,  Julia,"  said  Rosa,  her  face  assuming  a 
serious  hue.  "  He  must  be  all  that  if  he  does  anything  to 
make  you  cry.     Julia  !  I  alnn^st  hate  him." 

"  Who  said  he  made  me  cry  ?  "  she  asked,  her  eyes 
fairly  blazing.  "  Who  cares  whether  you  hate  him  or  not  ? 
He  is  twice  as  nice  as  long,  dried-up,  old  Mr.  Metcalf,  and 
you  shan't  talk  about  him  so.  Rosa,  you  always  were  so 
disagreeable  !  " 

Rosa  laughed  outright  with  that  musical  voice  of  hers, 
which  in  laughter  alwa^ys  wound  up  in  a  melodious  kind  of 
who-ee,  sounding  like  the  chiming  of  bells  over  the  hills 
and  tar  away. 

"  Julia,"  she  went  on,  "I  was  only  jesting;  I  think  Mr. 
Gordon  is  just  as  nice  as  he  can  be,  and  1  am  not  alone  in 
my  opinion." 

"  Who  else  thinks  so  ?  '"  demanded  Julia,  [Milling  at  her 
handkerchief. 

"■  You,"  she  answered,  looking  her  squarely  in  the  face. 
"  Julia,  Mr.  Gordon  loves  you,  and  dear  if  you  care  for  him 
be  careful  how  you  deal  with  him." 

"  I  don't  care  about  dealing  with  him  at  all,"  retorted 
she,  flashing  up  again. 

"  Yes  you  do,  dear,''  returne<l  Rosa,  quietly. 

"  Rosa,  don't  tell  nuinui  about  it  now." 

"  About  what,  dear?  "  asked  she,  gently. 

"  Oh,  about — I  mean — oh,  don'tyou  know  ?"  slie  asked  , 
innocently. 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  answered  Rosa,  pressing  her 
hand.     "  Mr.  Gordon  proposed  to  you,  didn't  he  ?  " 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  81 

"  lie  didn't  mean  it,"  answered  shy.  '"  He  could  not 
care  tor  a  cliit  like  me." 

"  I  think  he  does  love  this  chit  very  much,"  said  Rosa, 
placing  her  arms  aflectionately  around  her.  "  This  little 
thing  is  not  aware  how  attractive  she  is  growing." 

Rosa  was  right  there.  One  of  Julia's  chief  attractions 
was  her  unconsciousness  of  her  many  charms.  Hitherto 
she  had  been  treated  so  much  like  a  child  that  she  was  not 
aware  she  was  fast  Ijudding  into  lovely  womanhood  with 
many  fascinating  qualities  and  rare  prophetical  marks  of 
beauty.  Gordon  was  quick  to  discover  it,  at  all  events,  and 
would  have  given  almost  anything  to  possess  this  opening 
rosebud. 

"  Julia,"  remarked  her  cousin,  "  I  have  just  heard 
some  disagreeable  news  ;  mother  has  written  me  to  come 
home  at  once." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  cried  Julia,  rousing  herself,  "  I 
am  so  sorry ;  can't  you  persuade  her  to  let  you  stay 
longer  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  already  overstaid  my  time,  and  she  needs 
me,"  replied  she. 

"  When  will  you  leave  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  she  said. 

"  And  what  will  Mr.  Metcalf  say  ? "  inquired  Julia, 
demurely. 

"  Oh,  he  won't  mind,"  she  answered,  smiling,  while  a 
tell-tale  blush  mantled  her  cheek  "  I  must  go  noAvand  tell 
aunt  Sylvester  about  it.  By-the-way,  have  you  heard  how 
uncle  Collins  Farmer  is  to-day?  " 

"  Yes — mama  was  over  there  this  morning  and  on  her 
return  said  he  was  better." 

The  girls  went  out  of  the  parlor  and  just  as  they 
started  towards  the  dining-room  Metcalf  came  in. 

"  Where  is  Gordon  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  went  up  to  his  room,"  answered  Rosa,  smiling 
in  spite  of  herself. 


»Z  THAT  BRUISIN'   LAD  0    GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  Rosa  is  going  home,  Mr.  Metcalf,"  spoke  up  Julia. 

"  You  are  not !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  kind  of  dead  blank 
voice  which  sounded  like  so  much  music  in  Rosa's  ears. 

"  Yes,  I  have  to  go,  unless  aunt  Sylvester  says  I  must 
stay,"  she  said. 

"  Then  we  will  see  if  something  cannot  he  done  with 
aunt  Sylvester,"  he  laughed,  as  he  proceeded  up  stairs. 

He  went  at  once  in  search  of  Gordon,  intending  to 
have  it  out  with  him  about  writing  a  history  of  Sliirley  and 
Rot  acquainting  him  with  the  fact.  When  he  entered  the 
room  the  man's  face  looked  so  woe-begone  as  he  sat  in  the 
chair,  that  Metcalf  completely  forgot  about  the  history. 

"Why,  what's  up,  old  chap?"  he  asked,  as  he  took  a 
seat  beside  him.  i 

"  Oh  nothing,"  replied  Frank. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  your  very  voice  betrays  you,"  said 
Charlie.  "  Something  very  important  has  happened.  Tell 
me  what  it  is,  and  if  I  can  be  of  any  use  to  you,  of  course 
you  can  command  me." 

"  Well,  I  had  a  racket  with  Miss  Sylvester." 

"  What  kind  ?  "  inquired  Charlie. 

"  I  can  hardly  say,"  answered  Frank.  "  But  I  know 
this  much;  she  gave  me  the  worst  tongue-lashing  I  ever 
had  in  my  life." 

"You  don't  say  so?"  cried  Charlie.  "  Tell  me  all 
about  it." 

Gordon  related  everything  that  happened,  while 
Charlie  listened  with  the  utm'ost  astonishment  and  interest. 
When  the  former's  recital  was  over,  the  latter  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  and  laughed  heartily. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at?  "  asked  Frank,  growling. 
"I  don't  see  anything  very  funny  about  it." 

"  But  there  is  a  ridiculous  side  to  it,"  said  Metcalf, 
laughing  again. 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  That  you  should  be  so  completely  floored  by  a  young 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  83 

miss  of  seventeen,"  replied  Metcalf.  "  That  Frank  Gordon, 
the  handsome,  agreeable  literateur,  accustomed  to  bringing 
the  lovliest  of  the  fair  to  his  feet,  should  beg  and  sue  for  the 
love  of  a  school-girl,  and  in  return  for  the  asking  get  a  good 
sound  rating,  is  just  a  little  peculiar ;  don't  you  think  so, 
Gordon  ?  " 

"  I  rather  think  it  is,"  he  assented. 

"  But  cheer  up — '  faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,'  even 
if  she  was  but  a  kid,"  said  Charlie,  as  he  performed  his 
toilet  for  dinner.  "If  the  little  Miss  Sylvester  takes  all  of 
this  wind  out  of  your  sails,  what  will  become  of  you  when 
the  large  Mrs.  Sylvester  demands  an  explanation  ?  She 
doesn't  like  you  so  much  anyway." 

"  I  will  be  totally  demolished  when  both  attempt  to 
rend  me,"  he  said. 

"  That  will  never  be,"  remarked  Metcalf,  paring  his 
nails. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  Because  that  young  lady  is  made  of  that  sterne^r  stuff 
which  has  no  better  sense  than  to  be  true,"  he  answered. 
"  And  if  your  respected  future  mother-in-law  should  raise 
groundless  objections,  your  fair  Dulcinea  will  quickly  give 
lier  to  understand  where  she  is  to  stand.  Gordon,  that's  a 
true  little  woman." 

"  I  know  that,  Metcalf,  as  well  as  you,"  he  said,  "  but 
she  is  so  fond  of  her  mother,  that  I  dislike  to  think  of  any 
difference  between  them." 

"  Don't  give  yourself  any  uneasiness  on  that  score," 
said  Charlie,  "  when  nui  Sylvester  learns  that  she  cannot 
pilot  the  ship  any  longer,  and  finds  out  what  a  clever,  nice 
boy  you  are,  she  will  be  thoroughly  agreeable,  and  give  you 
some  of  the  fair  Julia's  bread  and  preserves.  Let's  get  our 
dinner." 

Going  out  they  met  the  ladies  on  the  piazza  ;  Metcalf 
put  at  ma  Sylvester  instantaneously  about  Rosa's  staying 
lono-er. 


84  THAT  BRUrSIN*    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LOl)Gfi, 

"  Really,  Mr.  Metculf,  I  could  not  take  the  responsi- 
bility upon  myself  of  causing  her  to  prolong  her  visit.  Her 
mother  has  reasons  for  her  return,  I  dare  say,  and  might 
not  like  her  staying,"  said  she,  with  a  cold,  metalic  ring  in 
her  voice. 

"  Write  her  mother  that  you  are  going  to  keep  her 
another  week,  anyway,"  urged  he,  as  he  felt  a  great  lump 
rising  in  his  throat. 

"  I  don't  feel  at  liberty  to  do  that,"  she  said,  decidedly, 
as  if  there  was  an  end  of  the  matter. 

So  there  was  nothing  for  Metcalf  to  do  but  to  proceed 
to  his  dinner  When  he  reached  the  Langdon  House,  he 
asked  for  the  proprietoress.  Miss  Langdon  came  out  in  her 
usual  methodical  way,  and  asked  what  he  desired. 

"  I  wish  to  settle  my  bill,"  he  said,  simply. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  if  taken  by  surprise. 

"  Give  me  a  receipt,  if  you  please,"  he  demanded. 

"  Certainly,"  she  returned,  "  I  will  hand  it  to  you  as 
you  go  out  from  dinner." 

As  we  have  intimated  before,  Miss  Eliza  Langdon  was 
an  eminently  just  woman.  That  afternoon  she  drove  down 
to  Doctor  Griswold's  otHce  ;  entering  she  found  him  busily 
engaged  writing. 

"  James,  Mr.  Metcalf  paid  his  board  like  a  gentleman," 
she  said. 

"  He  did !  "  he  said,  as  if  thunder-struck.  "  I  am  sur- 
prised at  that ;  I  had  written  to  a  lawyer  in  Stoddart  county 
to  iind  out  all  about  him." 

"  James,  I  don't  think  I  will  «q^k  him  to  leave,"  she 
w^ent  on.     "  The  more  I  see  of  him,  the  more  I  like  him." 

"  Lize,  you  run  a  great  risk  keeping  him,"  he  said  irri- 
tably. "  You  are  nursing  a  viper  in  your  bosom.  If  you 
are  stung  don't  run  to  mo  for  cure." 

"  All  right,  James,  I  will  get  some  other  doctor,"  she 
replied,  taking  him  literally.  "  I  shall  not  discharge  Mr. 
Metcalf.     Good  morning,  James." 


THAT  fiRUISIN*   LAD  o'   GREYSTONE  LODGE.  85 

"  Morning,  Lize,  morning,"  he  answered,  returning  to 
his  work. 

Miss  Lize  returned  to  lier  home  feeling  that  slie  liad 
fully  discharged  her  duty. 


CHAPTER  X. 


Mrs.  Elmira  Reynolds,  Rosa's  mother,  lived  at  Etna 
with  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Mary  Gooch.  Mrs.  Reynolds  had  lost 
her  husband  some  years  ago,  and  was  in  straightened  cir- 
cumstances. This  aunt  owned  a  home  which  she  ungraci- 
ously allowed  as  a  shelter  to  Mrs.  Reynolds  and  her  chil- 
dren, never  forgetting  to  remind  even  the  youngest  of  them 
that  she  had  full  powet;  to  send  them  away  whenever  she 
might  desire  to  do  so.  Mrs.  Reynolds'  position  was  very 
irksome  there,  and  doubtless  she  would  have  left  long  ago, 
only  her  brothers,  who  assisted  in  supporting  her  objected, 
because  they  were  sure  if  she  would  knuckle  sufficiently  to 
Mrs.  Gooch,  that  the  latter  would  make  her  the  residuary 
legatee  of  her  last  will  and  testament ;  so  she  bore  it  all  the 
best  she  could  on  the  children's  account. 

Mrs.  Reynolds  married  when  she  was  only  fourteen 
years  of  age,  and  at  this  time  looked  extremely  young.  She 
was  rather  good-looking  than  otherwise,  with  dark  hair  and 
eyes,  short  face  and  small  figure.  She  was  very  bright  and 
possessed  more  than  the  usual  modicum  of  mind  ;  but  Mrs. 
Reynolds  could  not  be  trusted ;  there  was  a  sharp,  vascilat- 
ing  kind  of  shrewdness  and  cynicism  about  her  which  boded 
no  good  for  any  one  towards  whom  her  good  wishes  did  not 
run.  She  could  treat  you  with  suave  politeness  and  the 
utmost  hospitality  to  your  face,  yet  fire  a  powerful  load  of 
grape-shot  in  the  way  of  abuse   at   you   behind  your  back. 


86  THAT  uruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge 

She  brooked  no  opposition  whatever;  was  self-willed  and 
vindictive  with  even  her  own  children  whom  she  loved  well, 
and  eared  "for  tenderly. 

Rosa  had  been  home  some  days  and  detailed  over  and 
over  again  the  many  things  said  and  done  at  Shirly  during 
her  visit. 

"  Rose,"  asked  her  mother,  one  morning,  "  who  writes 
yon  those  letters  which  you  receive  every  day? " 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,  mama,"  she  answered,  not  looking  up 
from  her  work. 

"  Your  aunt  Mary  is  very  uneasy  about  your  receiving 
them  ;  she  thinks  you  ought  not  to  get  them,"  her  mother 
said. 

•'  Aunt  Mary  is  so  curious,"  said  Rose,  petulantly. 
"  What  business  is  it  of  her's  if  I  do  have  a  letter  from  any 
one  ?  I  am  sure  it  will  not  injure  her," 

"  But  you  forget,"  spoke  Mrs.  Reynolds,  with  a  sarcas- 
tic smile,  "  that  you  dwell  under  her  roof.  As  you  live  in 
her  house,  doesn't  that  entitle  her  to  the  right  of  knowing 
everything  you  do  ?    She  thinks  so,  at  all  events." 

"  But  I  don't,"  replied  the  girl,  flatly.  "  I  don't  intend 
either  that  she  shall  know.  What  a  dreadful  thing  it  is  to 
be  dependent  upon  any  one.  Mama,  I  am  going  to  work. 
Anyting  is  better  than  having  you  ahvaj's  pressed.  I  can  at 
least  earn  something." 

This  was  a  noble  and  laudable  sentiment  in  this  seven- 
teen-year-old young  lady,  but  perfectly   in  keeping  with  the 
genuinenes  of  her   character.       With  such  people  as  Rosa, 
dependence  is  far  more  irksome  than  honest  toil, 
•    "  What  can  you  do?"  inquired  her  mother, 

"  I  would  prefer  some  situation  in  a  millinery  establish- 
ment. You  can  very  often  iind  something  to  do  in  sucli 
places." 

"  But  you  won't  make  much,"  said  her  mother  ;  "  the 
young  ladies  who  go  in  such  places  are  poorly  paid  and 
there  are  so  many  desirous  of  obtaining  situations," 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  87 

"  Nevertheless,  I  am  going  to  try,"  she  said,  "  to  get  a 
phico.  One  of  the  girls  at  Miss  Limestone's  establishment 
informed  me  that  she  was  sure  I  could  find  employment 
there  ;  of  course,  the  remuneration  will  be  small,  but  I  may 
be  able  to  rise  in  time  and  command  a  better  salary." 

"  Tliere  is  another  objection,"  said  her  mother,  leaiiing 
down  to  bite  olf  a  piece  of  refractory  thread,  "  you  are 
thrown  in  contact  with  all  kinds  of  people ;  that  is  more  or 
less  trying  always  on  young  ladies  unaccustomed  to  pub- 
licity." 

Mrs.  Reynolds  was  clearly  right  in  this  view.  One  of  the 
most  touchingly  sad  spectacles  in  this  world  is  to  see  a  young 
girl  forced  to  earn  her  bread  in  one  of  those  public  places — 
l>rought  into  daily  contact  with  every  class  of  people,  and 
notice  that  innate  dawn  of  delicacy  and  gentle  refinement 
swept  aAvay,  leaving  feminine  chastity  and  virtue  almost 
bare.  But  few  ladies  can  pass  this  trying  ordeal  and  retain 
those  softer,  gentler  touches  so  dear  and  fascinating  to  the 
sterner  sex. 

"  I  understand  you  mama,"  she  said.  "  I  appreciate 
your  views  on  that  subject,  and  if  I  secure  a  situation,  will 
try  and  always  be  the  same  natural  girl." 

"  I  don't  think  anything  will  hurt  you  dear,  because 
you  are  so  good  and  sweet.     I — " 

"Sister!  "  sang  out  a  voice  from  the  next  room. 

"  Well  Joe,  what  do  you  want  ? "  asked  Rosa. 

"  Aunt  Mary  says  for  you  to  come  and  see  her," 
re[)lied  a  small  individual,  appearing  at  the  door. 

Josephine,  called  Joe  by  the  family  for  the  sake  of 
brevity,  was  a  little  girl  ,some  seven  or  eight  years  old. 
Everybody  had  discovered  that  she  was  a  miracle  of  bright- 
ness, but  no  one  ever  found  her  a  miracle  of  goodness.  She 
was  undoubtedly  a  precocious  individual  mentally,  and 
astonished  everyone  around  by  her  bright  rejoinders. 

"  What  does  Aunt  Mary  want  ?  "  asked  Rosa. 


88  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  llow  can  I  inform  you  unless  she  told  me,"  she 
replied. 

"  You  are  always  so  smart ! "  said  her  sister,  with  a 
sarcastic  fling  in  her  voice. 

"  Don't  say  smart,"  retorted  Joe  with  a  curl  on  her  lip. 
"  It  is  so  common.     Say  hright  or  clever." 

"  Don't  speak  in  that  manner  about  your  sister,  Joe," 
said  her  mother  reprovingly. 

"  I  am  not  speaking  about  her  at  all.  I  am  speaking 
to  her,"  she  replied. 

"  And  you  don't  know  what  aunt  Mary  wants?"  asked 
liosa. 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  she  returned.  "  I  think  if  you  want 
to  know,  the  wisest  course  is  to  go  and  find  out,  sister  !  " 
and  Joe  looked  up  as  if  a  bright  idea  just  entered  her  head, 
"  can  you  and  mama  sit  this  way  ?  " 

Mrs.  Reynold  and  the  eldest  sister  looked  towards  her 
at  once,  as  she  perched  herself  upon  a  chair.  Throwing 
out  her  legs  on  a  level  with  her  seat,  she  turned  both  toes 
of  her  feet  inwards,  until  they  touched  each  other  on  a 
straight    line.  Looking     triumphantly     arountl,      she 

exclaimed  : 

''  I'll  bet  you  all  you  can't  do  that !  " 

Rosa  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Joe ! "  cried  her  mother,  rising  from  her  seat  and 
rushing  toward  her,  "  you  are  insane !  Get  ofl"  that  chair 
this  instant !  " 

Joe  ceased  her  contortion  act,  slid  from  the  chair,  and 
scampered  oif  as  fast  as  her  two  feet  could  carry  her,  to 
avoid  a  collision  with  her  mother's  open  hand. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  child?"  laughed  her  mother. 

"  She's  awful,"  said  Rosa.  "  But  mama,  she  is  very 
sweet  and  funny.     Her  little  tricks  are  really  amusing." 

"  Rosie,  go  and  see  what  your  aunt  Avants,"  her  mother 
said.     "  But  let  me  know  when  you  return." 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  89 

"  Very  good  mama,"  she  replied,  us  she  went  out  of 
tlie  room. 

Mrs.  Gooch  was  a  rcHc  of  tlic  ar.ti-helhini  days,  and 
like  many  old  peo[»le  of  her  stamp  l)elieved  the  world  was 
all  wrong  now-a-days  l)ecau8e  things  were  changed.  She 
constantly  reminded  those  around  how  fast  and  disgust- 
ingly ra})id  everyhody  was  now,  especially  the  young  ladies. 
We  often  wonder  according  to  her  views  what  the  girls  did 
in  her  young  days.  To  everything  they  said  or  did  now, 
she  would  remark  :  "  we  didn't  do  that  when  I  was  a  girl." 

Neither  did  they  have  electricity  in  ail  its  branches 
then,  yet  the  world  would  be  in  a  sad  plight  in  this  day 
without  it.  Progression  is  the  order  of  this  generation,  and 
science  is  being  grappled  more  successfully  every  day. 
This  is  the  natural  and  logical  result  of  God's  appearance  on 
earth,  and  the  farther  Christianity  extends,  the  greater  will 
be  the  natural  development  to  man.  Mrs.  Gooch  did  not 
exactly  see  it  in  this  light,  and  thought  the  world  fast  tend- 
ing towards  moral  and  physical  destruction. 

"  My  dear,  I  desire  to  speak  with  you  a  moment,"  she 
said,  when  Rosa  entered  her  room  upstairs. 

"  Yes,  aunt  Mary,"  she  replied,  standing  in  front  of 
her. 

"  Sit  down,  Rosa,"  she  went  on.  "  Girls  have  changed 
sadly  since  my  day.  When  I  was  one,  if  any  of  my  elders 
sent  for  me  I  came  at  once  and  sat  a  little  way  off,  ready  to 
hear  what  they  had  to  say." 

"  Yes,  aunt  Mary,"  said  the  girl,  seating  herself  on 
one  of  her  feet  in  that  peculiar  female  way,  on  the  front 
edge  of  a  chair, 

"  I  hear  a  gentleman  has  been  writing  to  you — what  do 
you  mean  by  allowing  such  a  thing?  "  she  asked,  looking 
severely  over  her  spectacles  at  her  grand-neice. 

A  flush  spread  the  girl's  cheek,  not  of  shame  at  any  act 
of  her  own,  but  of  irritation  at  her  aunt's  supposition  that 


90  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

she  would  allow  anything  wrong  to  be  done.  In  plain  [tar- 
lance,  Rosa  was  angry.  But  like  all  true-hearted  ladies,  her 
anger  was  ladylike.  Although  perfectly  sincere,  open  and 
honest,  Rosa  inherited  a  large  bit  of  her  mother's  temper 
without  the  latter's  gaucheries,  in  exhibiting  it. 

"  Aunt  Mary,  I  don't  think  you  have  any  right  to  be 
asking  me  about  such  things,"  said  Rosa,  making  every, 
effort  to  control  herself  properly.  "  I  have  told  mama  all 
about  it  and  she  did  not  object." 

That  was  a  direct  throw  down  of  the  gauntlet  on  her 
part.     Don't  you  know  her  aunt  took  it  upl 

She  jobbed  her  knitting  needle  angrily  through  her 
sock,  placed  the  work  and  ball  of  yarn  on  a  chair  near, 
pushed  her  spectacles  back  on  her  head,  and,  straightening 
herself  up,  looked  Rosa  squarely  in  the  face.  The  latter 
gave  her  interest  for  interest  in  the  way  of  looks. 

"  You  are  saucy  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be." 

"  Then  you've  got  a  wonderful  knack  of  doing  what 
you  don't  mean,"  retorted  the  old  lady.  "  You  are  living 
in  my  house,  and  I  have  both  the  right  and  power  to  turn 
you  out  any  moment  that  I  see  a  cause  to.  If  I  can  do  that 
I  can  surely  inquire  what  you  are  doing  in  this  house." 

The  girl  was  expecting  just  such  an  outbreak,  and  was 
in  a  measure  prepared  for  it. 

"  Aunt  Mary,"  she  said,  wincing  under  the  thrust  with 
quivering  lips,  "  you  have  a  right  to  say  who  sliall  stay  in 
your  house  and  who  shall  not.  But  I  am  here  under  my 
motlier's  care  and  direction,  and  responsible  to  her  alone. 
What  arrangements  she  has  with  you  I  do  not  inquire  into, 
because  such  a  course  would  be  impertinence  on  my  part ; 
but  I  shall  not  answer  each  i*nd  every  inquiry  concerning 
my  affairs  in  this  way,  unless  it  is  relevant  to  your  matters. 
I  have  gotten  several  letters  from  Mr.  Charlie  Metcalf,  and 
I  suppose  I  will  hear  again." 


THAT  BRUISIN'   LAD  o'   GREYSTONE  LODGE.  91 

"  Then  you  stop  him  from  writing  to  you  at  once !  " 
she  cried.  "  The  idea  of  your  speaking  in  sucli  a  manner 
to  me  !  You  must  be  losing  your  mind — tliough  to  be  sure, 
girls  of  this  day  have  but  little  to  lose  !  Mind  now,  if  I 
hear  of  any  more  letters  coming,  then  out  you  go  !  This 
house  bears  a  respectable  name." 

"  I  shall  certainly  not  do  anything  to  tarnish  its  name," 
said  Rosa,  with  a  rather  scornful  tone  of  voice.  "  You  for- 
get yourself  strangely,  aunt  Mary  !  The  idea  of  my  ever 
doing  anything  to  cause  your  house  to  suffer  in  name  or 
fame  is  absurd  !  And  I  want  to  say  this,  too !  You  shall 
not  insult  me  in  this  fashion  again.  If  you  do,  I  will  leave 
your  house  without  being  requested." 

"  Tut — tut — tut !  "  cried  her  aunt.  "  Where  are  those 
letters  Mr.  Metcalf  wrote  you?" 

"  I  have  them." 

"  Then  bring  them  to  me,"  she  said,  reaching  out  her 
hand  as  if  Rosa  had  them  in  her  lap. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  show  them  to  you,  Aunt  Mary," 
she  replied.  "  There  is  nothing  in  them  that  could  not  be 
seen  by  anyone.  They  simply  tell  me  how  uncle  Collins  is; 
and  what  is  going  on  at  aunt  Sylvester's  house,  but  I  object 
to  showing  letters  I  receive,  unless  it  is  my  duty  to  do  so." 

"  Leave  my  room,"  said  her  aunt,  pointing  towards  the 
door.     She  was  almost  choked  with  anger. 

Stately,  with  a  dignified  step  and  the  air  of  a  princess, 
Rosa  left  the  apartment. 

She  went  at  once  to  her  room,  and  seizing  her  hat  and 
cloak  was  soon  arrayed  for  a  walk. 

"Where  are  you  going  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Reynolds,  coming 
ill. 

"  Over  to  town,  to  get  me  something  to  do,"  she 
replied. 

"  What  did  your  aunt  Mary  say  ?  " 

Rosa  told  her  all  that  passed. 


92  THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  0*    GREYSTONE  LODGE 

"  Oh,  Rosa  !  "  oxclaimecl  her  mother,  "  you  oujjht  never 
to  have  spoken  in  that  manner  to  her  !  " 

"  What  sliouhl  T  liave  said  then,  mama  ? "  she 
demanded. 

"  Why  (Vuhi't  you  tell  her  that  you  wouldn't  receive 
any  more  letters;  then  if  Mr.  Metcalf  wrote  again,  why  sim- 
ply conceal  the  tact  from  her." 

"  Why,  mama !"  cried  the  girl. 

This  course  suggested  hy  Mrs.  Reynolds'  craftiness  hy 
no  means  coincided  with  Rosa's  open,  ingenuous  nature, 
hut  she  held  her  tongue.     This  was  her  mother. 

Walking  as  rapidly  as  possihle,  she  soon  reached  Miss 
Limestone's  establishment.  That  lady  received  her  very 
graciously,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  coveted  situation  was 
secured. 

"  The  pay  is  very  small — only  five  dollars  a  month," 
suggested  Rosa,  meekly. 

"  I  am  aware  of  that.  Miss  Rosa,"  said  the  lady,  "  hut 
you  see  we  cannot  aftbrd  to  give  more  to  beginners.  Many 
ladies  are  willing  to  work  for  nothing  at  first,  in  order  to 
gain  a  foot-hold.  You  will  begin  by  trimming  hats  ;  if  you 
prove  yourself  competent  and  useful,  of  course  you  will  not 
only  command  a  larger  salary  after  awhile,  but  gain  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  business." 

"  Very  good — I  will  accept  your  ofl:er,"  said  she. 
"  When  must  I  begin  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,"  answered  Miss  Limestone. 

Rosa  raised  her  parasol  and  started  down  the  street. 
She  threaded  her  way  among  the  passers-by,  feeling  much 
better  and  more  comfortable.  She  determined  to  go  by  the 
post-office  and  get  Metcalf 's  "  daily  report,  "  as  she  called  it. 
Standing  before  the  opening  in  the  office,  while  the  boy 
sorted  the  letters,  the  time  seemed  interminably  long.  Her 
little  heart  beat  so  that  she  could  hear  it  through  her  tight- 
fitting  bodice,  and  blushed  lest  the  small  boy  handling  the 
letters  should  hear  it  too.      When  he   placed   a  fat-looking 


THAT  BRUISIN'   lad  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  93 

letter  before  her,  she  felt  something  bounding  into  her 
throat,  as  she  glanced  at  tlie  small  boy  to  see  if  he  was 
noticing  her.  Gathering  her  treasure  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble, she  went  on  her  way,  keeping  it  hid  from  all  view  until 
she  came  to  the  silent  path-way  over  the  river,  then  she 
l>roke  it  open,  reading  while  walking  along.  It  must  have 
been  a  pretty  long  one  for  she  was  not  through  with  it  until 
the  forks  of  the  road  were  reached — one  of  which  led  to 
her  aunt's. 

"  I  certainly  am  surprised  to  hear  he  is  coming,"  she 
soliloquized  to  herself.  "  I  believe  he  is  only  Jesting  ;  he 
says  he  is  coming  Saturday  week  ;  how  I  would  like  to  see 
him!  Strange — so  strange,  isn't  it?"  and  her  voice  died 
away  amidst  her  thoughts.  She  was  as  free  from  vanity  as 
possible  and  wondered  why  Charlie  Metcalf,  with  all  his 
cleverness,  could  take  such  a  fancy  to  her.  Just  then  the 
voices  of  the  children  calling  to  her  broke  in  upon  her 
reverie. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Several  weeks  had  passed  since  Rosa  left  for  Etna  and 
everything  seemed  to  have  gone  wrong  in  the  hitherto 
pleasant  Sylvester  mansion.  Gordon  and  Julia  studiously 
avoided  each  other,  and  Metcalf  was  as  morose  as  a  young 
hyena — so  Frank  informed  him.  Ma  Sylvester  was  l>ecom- 
ing  impatient  for  the  time  for  her  summer  trip,  and  pa  Syl- 
vester was  miserable  because  ma  waj?  not  happy, 

Charlie  Metcalf  was  now  well  satisfied  that  there  was 
no  happiness  for  him  apart  from  Rosa  Reynolds.  He  had 
written  quite  often  to  her  about  what  was  going  on,  and  the 


94  THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    OREYStONE  LODGfi. 

only  real  pleasure  which  he  enjoyed  since  she  left  was  the 
recdijit  of  a  sweet,  newsy  letter  from  her.  He  was  sure  now 
that  if  he  saw  her  again  he  would  tell  her  of  his  love  it  it 
i-esulted  in  eternal  separation.  Of  course  he  would  conceal 
nothing  from  her,  hut  tell  her  all.  He  was  not  certain  how- 
she  would  look  upon  his  situation,  hecause  people  hold  such 
a  variety  of  opinions  on  suhjects  of  this  nature.  If  young 
girls  generally  have  a  horror  of  widowers  how  would  they 
"egard  a  man  who  once  helieved  himself  married  and  the 
woman  still  alive  ?  Even  in  such  a  case  there  might  be 
neither  legal  nor  moral  rights  in  her  favor,  yet  in  many 
ways  she  could  be  particularly  nasty  and  disagreeable.  For 
instance,  by  instituting  a  prosecution  for  bigamy,  although 
she  could  never  sustain  it. 

Charles  Metcalf  had  never  loved  before  in  his  life.  He 
went  through  a  marriage  ceremony  once,  but  he  kneAv  at 
the  time  that  he  did  not  care  tor  the  woman.  He  repented 
sincerely  of  that  sin  and  took  the  heavy  visitation  after- 
wards falling  upon  him,  meekly — never  complaining.  Up 
to  this  time  his  yoke  was  bearable,  but  since  he  loved  Rosa 
Reynolds  it  became  irksome  and  galling.  How  he  wished 
now  that  he  could  recall  that  hasty,  thoughtless  step  and 
present  himself  in  person  to  her,  as  he  was  in  heart — only 
her's,  "  yesterday,  to-day  and  forever."  But  there  was  one 
thing  he  would  certainly  not  do,  and  that  was  make  the 
least  effort  to  persuade  her  to  see  the  matter  through  his 
glasses,  but  she  should  view  it  unbiased  througlt  jher  own. 

Metcalf  was  a  man  of  great  emotional  nature,  with  a 
will  like  a  strong  piece  of  wrought  iron.  When  he  first 
discovered  his  growing  interest  in  this  young  lady,  knowing 
his  position,  he  brought  this  wonderful  will  power  to  bear 
upon  it,  and  endeavored  to  crush  it  out.  He  failed  igno- 
miniously.  The  failure  awed  him.  He  now  felt  that  a 
passion  had  taken  possession  of  him  stronger  than  he  ever 
knew  before.  There  was  a  sacred  tenderness  mingled  with 
,    too,  becaust;  the  ol)ject  of  it  was  the  one  and  only  woman 


THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge.  95 

who  had  ever  taught  him  "  the  sad,  sad  lesson  of  loving," 
It  was  also  unselfish.  He  would  have  suftered  any  amount 
of  trial  and  privation  rather  than  cause  her  a  moment's 
nnhappiness,  or  disturb  the  peace  of  her  mind  for  a  second. 

Sitting  in  the  porch  still  thinking  over  the  hardship  of 
his  position,  the  postman  came  up  and  handed  him  two 
letters.  He  took  them  carelessly,  but  the  moment  he  read 
the  address  upon  the  one  uppermost  his  heart  seemed  to 
stand  still.  He  w^ould  never  forget  that  handwriting, 
although  three  years  had  passed  away  since  he  saw  it.  It 
was  that  of  the  woman  with  whom  he  once  went  through  a 
marriage  ceremony.       Breaking  it  open  he  read -as  follow^s  : 

Baltimore,  June  29th,  1884. 
Dear  Mr,  Metcalp  : 

Pardon  me  for  intruding  upon  you,  but  something  has 
happened  which  makes  it  imperatively  necessary  for  me  to 
have  an  interview  with  you.  Ere  this  reaches  you  I  wnll 
be  on  my  way  to  Shirly,  where  I  learned  by  inquiry  you  are 
staying  at  present.  Please  call  on  me  at  Hotel  Raymond  on 
Tuesday  afternoon,  the  31st  inst.,  at  three  o'clock. 

Yours  truly,  Mamie  Metcalf. 

To  say  that  he  was  astonished  at  the  perusal  of  this 
would  be  putting  it  mildly  ;  he  was  simply  dumbfounded. 
For  three  years  he  had  heard  nothing  from  her,  nor  had 
any  communication  passed  between  them,  excepting  the 
allowance  paid  her  through  Metcalf's  attorney.  He  had 
expressly  forbade  her  seeking  him  out  in  any  way,  and  she 
promised  never  to  do  so.  What  happened  to  cause  her  to 
do  this  he  could  not  divine.  He  then  thought  he  w'ould 
wire  her  not  to  come,  but  to-day  was  the  thirty-first,  and 
the  train  by  which  she  came  was  due  in  three  hours.  There 
was  nothing  left  but  to  accord  her  the  desired  interview. 
He  was  extremely  vexed.  Recovering  his  self-possession  as 
quickly  as  he  could,  he  broke  open  the  other  letter.  He 
a'dw  it  was  from  Major  Ruskin. 


06  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

Stoddart,  C.  H.,  June  30th. 
My  Dear  Charlie: 

I  received  a  letter  from  Doctor  James  Griswold  in  ref- 
erence to  you.  I  followed  instructions  in  answering,  and 
lie  will  find  but  cold  comfort  in  the  reply.  He  was  very 
abusive  in  his  letter  about  you,  using  such  terms  as  scamp, 
deceiver  and  the  like.  Don't  kill  the  man;  but  I  deem  it 
best  to  acquaint  you  with  what  he  is  saying,  in  order  that 
his  tongue  may  be  shut.  All  are  well  at  Greystone  Lodge. 
Let  me  know  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you. 

Yours  affect.,  Jno.   W.  Ruskin. 

From  being  extremely  vexed,  he  became  very  angry — 
violently  *80.  "When  the  Bruisin'  Lad  lost  his  temper  he 
was  just  as  ugly  and  nasty  as  he  was  polite  and  amiable  in 
his  peaceful  moments.  He  became  very  much  excited,  and 
rising  from  his  seat  went  at  once  to  look  for  Doctor  Gris- 
wold.    Reaching  the  front  gate,  he  met  Gordon. 

"  Where  is  Griswold's  office?"  he  asked,  moistening 
his  lips  quietly. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  him,  Metcalf  ?"  he  asked,  in 
an  alarmed  voice,  laying  his  hand  on  Charlie's  arm. 

"  I  want  to  speak  with  him  a  moment,"  he  replied,  a 
steely  gleam  shooting  from  his  eyes  in  a  way  which  caused 
one's  blood  to  creep. 

"  Metcalf,  you  are  angry — you  have  heard  something — 
wait  before  you  go,"  urged  Gordon, 

"  Stand  aside,  Frank !  "  he  cried  out,  hoarsely.  "That 
man  has  been  using  abusive  epithets  about  me,  and  I  am 
going  to  stop  him." 

"  Metcalf,  you'll  kill  him  if  you  go  now,  you  are  fear- 
fully angry  !  Do  wait  and  cool  oft".  You  don't  know  he 
said  anything,"  urged  Frank,  catching  hold  of  him. 

"  Let  go  !  "  and  he  shook  Frank's  arm  oft".  "  Yes,  he 
did  say  it,  because  Ruskin  wrote  me.  Move,  Gordon !  it 
is  useless  to  stand  here." 

Finding  it  loas  useless  to  attempt  any  further  restraint, 


THAT  BRUISIN'  lad  o'  CREYSTONE  LODGE.         97 

Frunk  allowed  liim  to  juiss,  uiul  went  with  hiia  n:^  lie  moved 
i(uiek:ly  tliroiii^h  the  gate  uiid  down  the  sidewalk. 

"  Say,  Charlie,  you  are  not  going  to  hurt  him,  are  you  ?" 
lie  asked. 

"■  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  until  I  get  there,"  he 
re[)lii'd. 

"  Have  you  got  any  weapon?  " 

"  Xo,  r  don't  care  Ibr  any  unless  some  friend  inter- 
feres." 

"  I'll  see  that  nothing  of  that  kind  oeeurs,"  saidGordon. 

The  two  men  walked  on  in  silence  until  they  reaehed 
I)oetor  (4riswol(rs  office.  Metealf  marched  on  in,  and  saw 
a  wee-bit  of  a  man  writing  at  a  table.  As  he  glanced  at 
him,  a  feeling  of  contempt  pervaded  him,  so  plainly  did  the 
Doctor's  face  show  what  stamp  of  man  he  was. 

"  You  are  Doctor  James  Griswold,"  he  said,  witli  a 
perceptible  sneer,  not  unnoticed  by  the  medical  man. 

"  And,  pray,  how  do  you  know  me  so  well,  considering 
I  know  nothing  about  you,"  he  said,  looking  in  a  surprised 
manner  at  Charlie. 

"Because  you  look  like  a  liar  !  "  he  said,  advancing  a 
step  nearer.  "  No,  sit  down  until  I  am  ready  for  you  to 
get  up,"  he  went  on,  as  Doctor  Griswold  rose  in  sheer 
astonishment.  He  placed  both  hands  on  his  shoulders  and 
crushed  him  down  easily  into  the  chair  again. 

"Who  are  you — what  do  you  mean?"  he  asked,  as 
he  writhed  in  the   vice-like  grasp  of  The  Bruisin*  Lad. 

"  I  am  Charles  Metealf,"  he  answered,  with  that 
[)eculiar  steely  gleam  in  his  eyes,  "  and  I  want  to  know  why 
you  wrote  that  tissue  of  falsehoods  to  Major  Kuskin." 

"What — what  do  you  allude  to?"  asked  the  doctor, 
his  face  turning  deadly  pale  as  the  persi)iration  rolled  from 
his  brow  down  u[)on  his  cheeks.  The  man  was  thoroughly 
frightened  now.  He  had  lieard  so  much  about  Metealf 's 
temper  and  desperation,  that  he  really  believed  his  time 
had  come. 


^ 


98  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  (jreystone  lodge. 

''  Doctor  Griswold,  if  you  were  a  nuiii  physicuUv,  I 
should  be  ><paring  in  words,  mid  full-handed  with  some- 
thing else,"  said  Charlie,  looking  contemptuously  down 
upon  him.  "  But  as  you  are  such  a  contemptible  piece  of 
humanity,  I  shall  only  say  a  few  words  to  you.  You  come 
of  that  stamp  of  men  who  lite  to  blacken  a  fellow  creat- 
ure's name,  destroy  his  reputation,  not  through  necessity  or 
duty,  but  mere  malignacy.  You  have  a  heart  full  of 
malignant,  bitter  feelings,  a  heart  void  of  all  social  duty, 
as  well  as  the  rights  of  your  neighbor."' 

"Men  who  strike  through  revenge  are  actuated  by  sonic 
fancied  or  real  injury  committed  against  them  ;  but,  men 
of  your  class  strike  out  of  sheer  malice — the  most  depraved 
state  of  degredatiou  to  which  the  human  heart  can  sink. 
The  only  reason  you  are  not  a  murderer  is,  you  arc  an 
arrant  coward.  If  I  ever  hear  of  your  mentioning  my 
name  again,  I  shall  inliict  personal  as  Avell  as  bodily  casti- 
gatio!)  upon  you,  and  until  then,  I  leave  you  to  your  own 
sweet  reflections." 

Charles  Metcalt  removed  his  hand.^  from  the  doctor's 
shoulders  and  walked  out.  Gordon  followed.  On  reach- 
ing the  stairway  the  latter  said  : 

"  Metcalf,  I  am  so  glad  you  didn't  hurt  him  I  " 

"He  is  a  little  puppy,  nothing  more,"  re[tlied  Charlie 
"  When  I  first  heard  of  him  I  was  under  the  imiiression 
that  he  was  a  man  in  size.  Of  course  I  would  never  strike 
one  like  him." 

"  Metcalt,  you  are  a  genuinely  brave  man,"  said  Gor- 
don. "  Of  course  we  all  know  you  are  very  desperate 
when  angry,  but  I  feel  now  that  you  will  never  let  your 
anger  cause  you  to  commit  a  mere  act  of  violence." 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  he  answered  earnestly. 

The  young  gentlemen  pursued  their  way  to  dinner. 
Metcalf  ha<l  but  little  appetite;  the  shadows  of  the  coming 
interview  with  Mamie  Metcalf  were  already  falling 
across  his  path  and  darkening  it.       He  ransacked  his  brain 


THAT  BRFISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  99 

time  and  time  }ij>;ain,  endeavoring  to  seek  tlie  cause  of  her 
sudden  visit,  but  all  to  no  ettect.  He  thonglit  once  of  tel- 
ling Gordon  all  aUont  it;  but  the  risk  to  Mamie  caused 
him  to  keep  his  mouth  sealed.  He  hardly  knew  what  to 
do,  and  the  oidy  way  out  of  the  matter  that  he  could  see, 
was  to  grant  the  desired  interview.  If  he  failed  to  meet 
her  at  the  hotel,  she  would  seek  him  out,  and  that  would 
he  tar  uku'c  unpleasant. 

On  his  return  after  dinner  to  his  room,  ma  Sylvester 
met  him  at  the  front  door.  The  moment  he  saw  her  he 
knew  something  was  w^rong.  A  lowering,  sullen  look 
rusted  npon  her  face,  which  Metcalf  always  hatetl  to  see  there. 
Xothwithstanding  her  amusing  attempts  to  play  In  grande 
'/'line,  he  had  grown  fond  of  her.  She  was  genial,  kind, 
and  pleasant  to  all,  and  was  undoubtedly  very  clever,  natu- 
rally. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,  where  is  Mr.  Gordon?  "  she  asked,  with 
stately  dignity. 

"  He  left  me  a  moment  ago,  after  dinner.  I  suppose 
he  went  down  town,"  he  answered. 

"  As  soon  as  he  returns,  if  you  see  Jiim,  please  say  that 
I  desire  to  speak  with  him  for  a  short  time." 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  he  answered.  "  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you?" 

''  Xothing  ut  all,"  she  replied,  moving  towards  her 
room  majestically. 

Metcalf  watched  her  as  she  departed,  and  wondered 
what  she  wanted  wirli  (4ordon.  All  at  once  it  tiashed 
across  his  mind. 

"  By  jovel  ""  he  exclaimed,  laughing,  "  she  is  going  to 
<roYe  Gordon  for  addressing  that  lovely  girl  of  hers.  She 
won't  get  anything  out  of  him,  though." 

Metcalf  divined  rightly.  Ma  Sylvester  learned  that 
morning  about  the  parlor  scene  between   Julia  and  Frank. 

Julia  went  to  take  a  music  lesson,  and  during  her 
absence  a  letter  came  for  her  from  Rosa.       Ma  Sylvester 


100  THAT  HKUISIN'    LAD  o'    (iREVSTONE  LODGEl. 

still  adhorcp  to  the  barbarous  custom  of  opcijiug  her 
(laughter's  letters  tirst  and  allowiug  her  to  peruse  them 
afterwards.  Actiug  uttder  this  maternal  iiifluonce,  she 
read  Julia's  letter,  iu  which  there  was  an  unmistakable 
reference  to  Frauk's  courting  escapade.  She  taxed  Julia 
with  it  the  moment  the  latter  returiied,  and  forced  from  her 
an  account  of  the  whole  matter.  She  flew  into  oue  of  her 
arand  humors,  declaring  that  things  had  come  to  a  (/ravd 
pass,  in  a  grand  way,  and  that  she  would  put  up  with  such 
grand  doings  no  longer. 

Enterino;  her  room  after  seeing  Metralf,  she  iiitched 
into  Julia  again. 

"  I  am  going  to  give  that  Gordon  apiece  of  my  mind  !" 
she  exclaimed.  "  I  never  did  like  him.  lie  ain't  nothing 
no  way.  He  ain't  got  money  enough  to  bur}'  himself  with. 
Miss,  you  shall  be  present  wh^n  I  speak  witli  him." 

She  ha<l  threatened  the  young  girl  with  a  prospect  of 
this  ordeal  once  before,  and  Julia  begged  to  be  excused. 

"  Mama,  please  don't  say  anything  to  him  where  I  am. 
It  is  all  over  now.  I  will  never  speak  to  him  again  if  you 
don't  wish  it.     Don't  say  anything  rough  to  him." 

"Taking  his  part,  are  you?"  she  asked,  with  an 
inflexion  of  sarcasm  in  her  tone. 

"  Xo,  I  am  not,"  answered  she.  "  But  I  did  not  treat 
him  politely,  and  said  soujc  very  foolish  things  to  him. 
Mama,  please  let  it  all  pass." 

Julia  here  broke  down  and  burst  into  tears.  She 
loved  her  mother,  and  disliked  exceedingly,  to  see  her 
amioyed.  At  the  same  time,  she  felt  sure  that  Gordon  was 
not  to  blame.  She  regretted  extremely  that  there  should 
be  any  rencontre  between  the  two,  and  was  violently 
op|')osed  to  hearing  it. 

"  I  shall  not  pass  over  it,"  said  lier  mother,  "  I  have 
treated  that  Gordon  well.  T  gave  up  my  best  room  to  him, 
and  he  has  been  dealt  with  in  the  kindest  manner.  He  is 
au  ungrateful  wretch." 


TttAT  BRFISIn'    lad  o'    GREYStONE  LODGfe.  lOl 

"  Maybe,  mama,  he  didn't  mean  it  a;^  injg^ratitndo  wlien 
lie  said  what  he  did  to  me,"  suggested  Jnlia. 

'■'■  Yes,  lie  did  !  "  she  retorted.  "  T  want  you  to  un(U'r- 
stand  that  you  shall  tell  me  everything,  even  to  your 
thoughts.  You  ought  never  to  have  kept  this  from  me. 
(^o,  you  shall !  and  hear  every  word  I  have  to  say  to  him." 

"  Whether  I  want' to  or  not,  mama?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  whether  you  wish  to  or  not/"  she  replied.  "  If 
you  don't  obe}'  my  every  wish  and  do  just  as  I  want  you  to, 
then  you  are  a  mean,  Idack-hearted  girl.  That's  all  T  have 
to  say." 

"  Oh — oh — mama,  you  are  so  hard  on  mej  "  cried 
Julia,  as  fresh  tears  poured  down  her  cheeks.  "  I  hate  to 
talk  about  such  things  to  anyone.  If  Mr.  (Tordon  had  said 
anything  he  ought  not,  I  would  have  told  you  about  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  would,"  replied  her  mother.  "  I 
hear  Mr.  Gordon  coming  now.  (iet  ready  to  go  with  me 
at  once." 

"  Mama,  dear  mama  !"  cried  Julia,  throwing  herself  at 
her  feet,  "  don't  make  me  go  !  Spare  me,  spare  my  feel- 
ings!    I  feel  as  if  I  Avould  sijik  under  the  ground  now." 

"  Get  up — you  shall  go,"  she  cried.  "T  will  punish 
you  both  properly.  He  should  have  spoken  to  me  first  and 
asked  my  consent.  You  ouglit  to  have  told  me.  T  intend 
to  make  y(Hi  both  pay  for  it,  and  drive  him  from  the 
house." 

Julia  rose  from  her  recumbent  position  slowly.  In 
one  moment  she  w^as  transferred  from  the  quiet,  gentle, 
obedient  girl  into  a  woman,  ready  to  do  or  die.  Her 
mother's  want  of  regard  ibv  those  delicate,  sweet,  frail  ten- 
dails,  which  entwined  this  new  sweetlieart  love  first  [tained, 
then  shocked,  and  finally  hardened  her.  Following  her 
mother  quietly  into  the  parlor,  there  was  a  set,  determined 
expression  upon  her  face,  which  boded  no  yielding  from 
any  position  or  stand  she  had  taken.  Immediately  on 
entering,  she  caught  Gordon's  eye        How  gentle,  easy  and 


102  THAT  liRTISlN'    LAD  0*    GREYSTONE  LOIXSE 

(liiCiiitit'd  lit'  appeared  in  eoiitrast  with  her  motiior's  uneasy, 
flurried  and  loud  appearance. 

'  Mr.  Gordon,"  said  her  ma,  drawiuLC  herself  up  with 
si'reat  diii'nity,  "  I  tliink  you  liave  acted  in  a  uiost  ungentle- 
manly  manner  towards  me." 

"  In  whr.t  way,  Mrs.  Sylvester  ?  "  he  demanded,  quietly. 

Gordon  was  about  the  most  difHeuit  human  heing  under 
the  sun  for  any  f)ne  to  overthrow  in  a  battle  of  words.  lie 
knew  perfectly  well  why  she  sent  for  him,  Init  was  deter- 
mined to  make  her  acknowledge  it  i)i  the  onset. 

"  You  ought  to  know  without  being  told,"  she  said. 

"  Not  unless  I  am  conscious  of  some  wrouii',"  lie 
retorted. 

"  You  have  used  my  kindness  and  hosj)itality,  sir,  as  a 
cloak  under  wliich  to  make  improper  advances  towards  my 
daughter — " 

"  One  moment,  ma'am,"  he  interrupted  :  "  kindly  allow 
Miss  Julia  to  retire  during  this  discussion." 

"  My  name  is  not  ma'am,"  she  uttered  with  rising 
color.     "  I—" 

"  Well  then,  madam,"  he  interrni)ted,  "  I  am  sure  you 
do  not  wish  your  daughter  to  l)e  present  at  a  time  when  it 
must  be  peculiarly  disagreeal)le  to  her.  She  has  already 
informed  me  that  it  is  not  a  pleasant  matter;  I  sincerely 
wish  to  save  her  all  pain  and  annoyance  possible.  Am  I 
not  correct,  Miss  Julia,"  he  asked,  turning  towards,  her  and 
bowing,  "  in  supposing  that  you  prefer  not  to  be  present  ?" 

Julia's  cheeks  fairly  burned.  Here  was  the  man  whom 
she  had  treated  so  rudely,  wliose  advances  she  had  thrown 
aside  witli  indignity  and  utiuost  scorn,  against  wliom  she 
had  made  all  manner  of  accusations,  taking  her  part  and 
attempting  in  every  way  to  save  her  feelings ;  she  f'jlt 
heartily  ashamed  of  herself  ajul  very  proud  of  him.  More- 
over, she  could  not  help  feeling  it  was  on  her  account'  alone 
that  he  was  bcarinoj  all  this,  and  throuo-h  her  that  he  would 
be  banished.       She   determined    to  set  herself  riirht    before 


THAT  BKUISIN"    LAD  <»"    CKEV.STONK  LOlXiE.  108 

l)im  iit  all  events,  to  sliovv  liini  that  she  luul  neither  [>art  nor 
parcel  in  Ijringing  about  this  state  of  thiiii^s. 

"  My  (laughter's  wishes  coincide  with  my  own  in  tliis 
matter,  and  whatever  I  say  she  will  re-echo,"  said  Mrs. 
Sylvester,  s[»eaking  just  as  Julia  was  about  to  reply.  "  You 
had  no  right  to  take  advantage  of  my  admitting  3'ou  into 
my  family  to  make  love  to  my  daughter.  It  was  very 
underhand  and  sneaking  in  you,  as  my  daughter  most 
l>roperly  informed  you  when  you  forgot — " 

"  Mama  !  " 

Ma  Sylvester  started  and  Gordon  turned  ([uickly 
towards  Juha.  Both  looked  on  in  astonishment  at  the 
young  girl,  who  had  su(hlenly  cried  out  and  risen  to  her 
feet.  Admiration  seized  possession  of  Gordon  as  he  looked 
at  her  sparkling  dark  eyes,  her  Hushed  cheeks  and  parted 
li[)S,  her  heaving  bosom  and  almost  quivering  frame.  Julia 
was  thoroughly  aroused  now  ;  her  mother's  want  of  lady- 
like tact  towards  herself,  her  want  of  justice  towards  Gor- 
don, had  simply  driven  the  girl  to  bay,  and  like  all  people 
})laced  at  bay,  she  turned  not  only  to  defend  herself,  but  to 
i-end  her  tormentors  as  well.  A  swift  expression  ol  infinite 
contempt  and  disgust  shot  over  her  face  as  she  glanced  at 
her  mother. 

"  Mrs.  Sylvester,"'  spoke  up  Gordon,  in  a  manly  but 
dignitied  tone,  "•  truth  compels  me  to  say  that  [  never  made 
an  im[)ro[>er  pro[)osal  to  your  daughter  ;  I  love  and  desire 
to  cherish  her,  as  any  true-hearted  man  would  love  and 
cherish  a  wife.  I  t(jld  her  gf  it,  I  asked  her  to  l)e  my  wite  : 
I  would  ask  her  again  if  I  thought  it  would  avail  any- 
thing." 

"  Who  are  you,  to  speak  in  this  lofty  and  grand  man- 
ner to  me !  "  cried  Mrs.  Sylvester,  losing  all  control  of  her- 
self, "  you  are  a  monster  !  a  deceitful,  scheming  adventurer  I 
you  come  into  my  house  utterly  poverty-stricken,  and  dare 
to  try  and  steal  my  daughter's  affections — " 

"  Mama  ! "  rang  out  Julia's  full  voice,  "  you  strangely 


104  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  O'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

torget  yourselt";  Mr.  Gordon  lias  not  been  guilty  of  any- 
tliing  wrong;  he  is  not  a  monster  nor  a  deceitful  man  ;  he 
didn't  try  to  undermine  you,  nor  steal  my  love.  lie  was 
straightforward  and  manly  about  it.  1  acted  badly  towards 
him  ;  I  was  rude  and  unlady-hke  to  liim  I  lie  is  too  good 
for  my  love  I  Mama  he  is  much  better  tlian  you  ;  he  stands 
now  a  hundred  times  nobler  and  gentler  than  you  do;  he  is 
every  inch  a  man." 

She  paused  a  moment  for  breath  ;  she  had  no  control 
of  herself  now.  Her  mother  looked  on  in  speechless  amaz.e- 
ment,  while  tears  of  gratitude  shon-j  in  Gordon's  eyes. 

"  Yes,  mama,  you  are  acting  badly  now  ;  so  there  !  " 
she  said,  stamping  her  little  slippered  foot,  "  you  have  made 
me  submit  to  the  most  awful  degredation,  and  torn  aside 
the  female  veil  of  delicacy  and  true  refinement,  against  my 
wishes.  It  is  down-right  mean  in  you — so  there  I  You 
have  accused  Mr.  Gordon  of  all  kinds  of  things  he  didn't 
do — so  there  !  You  have  used  the  most  unlady-like  language 
towards  him  while  he  has  behaved  with  all  the  gentleness 
of  a  lady,  combined  with  true  courage  and  manliness — 
showing  himself  far  superior  to  you — so  there  !  He  can  love 
and  trust  the  girl  of  a  nionth's  acquaintance  and  endeavors 
to  save  her  feelings  ;  you  attempt  to  expose  and  torture 
them — so  there  I  1  like  him  for  his  noble  generosity — liis 
manliness — and  mama,  at  this  time  I  hate  you  for  being 
rude  and  mean  to  him — so  there  I  Mr.  Gordon,"  she  went 
on,  "  will  you  forgive  me  for  having  acted  so  badly  to  you  ? 
I  am  ashamed  of  myself  already  ;  I  am  so  much  oblige  to 
you  for  taking  such  careful  thought  about  my  feelings  and 
wishes  ;  I  do  believe  you  love  me  and  1  am  proud  ot  having 
won  such  love  I  " 

"Brave  girl — jj-enerous  girl — noble  girl  I  "  cried  Gor- 
don,  "you  are  worthy  the  love  of  a  Prince.  I  am  truly 
grateful  to  you  for  your  honest  effort  in  behalf  of  Justice." 
And  he  gently  took  and  raised  her  lovely  little  hand  to  his 
lips. 


THAT  BRUISIX'    LAD  o'    OREYSTONE  LODGE.  105 

Ma  Sylvester  was  not  only  (Imiihtbiiiided  lor  the 
nioiiient,  but  silenced.     Slie  ajtpeared  dazed. 

"Julia!"  she  exchiimed,  hoarsely,  the  tears  tillini!;  her 
eyes. 

"  Mania  I  "  erie<l  the  i^'irl,  her  soft  lieart  relentiniJ"  as 
she  hurst  into  tears.  "  I  do  love  you.  You  have  heen  so 
good  and  kind  to  nie  all  my  lite.  I  almost  wish  I  was 
never  horn.  Mama,  I  am  sorry  I  iiad  to  speak  to  you  so. 
I  love  you  dearly.  You  are  as  i^ood  and  sweet  as  you  can 
he,  hut  so  mean  and  unjust  to  Mr.  Gordon."  She  threw 
her  arms  around  her  niother,  kissed  her  brow  and  (-heeks, 
and  then  releasing  her,  left  the  room,  sobbing  as  if  her 
heart  would  break. 

"  Mr.  Gor<h)n,"  said  ma  Sylvester,  "  you  are  the  cause 
of  all  tills.  I  wish  you  had  never  come  here.  You  have 
not  only  made  me  see  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  but  caused 
my  daughter  to  defy  me." 

"  Mrs.  Sylvester,"  lie  said,  "I  am  sorry  that  I  should 
have  brought  you  annoyance,  but  I  could  not  help  loving 
3'our  daughter.  You  will  find  that  she  will  do  her  duty 
fully  in  everything,  and  will  be  just  as  opposed  to  thwarting 
you  as  ever." 

"  Everything  goes  against  me  in  these  days,"  she 
sighed,  at  she  left  the  rocnn. 

(-lordmi  stood  alone  for  a  moment,  and  then  departed, 
to  see  if  he  could  find  Julia  anywbere. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Just  about  the  time  that  Julia  was  defending  Frank 
Gordon  so  ably,  Charlie  Metcalf  was  standing  in  the 
rotunda  of  Hotel  Raymond,  waiting  until  the  clerk  becarne 


10')  THAT  BRUISIN'  lad  o'  (illEYSToNE  LODGE. 

(lisc'Diiiigod    ill    order   to    inquire    it"    Miiniic    Metc-alf  was 
there. 

"  Did  Mrs.  Mamie  Metcalf  arrive  here  on  the  west 
bound  train  ?  "  lie  asked  of  the  clerk,  when  the  latter  turned 
towards  him. 

"  Lady  with  commanding ligure,  dark  hair  and  eyes  ?  " 
he  inquired  in  re[)ly. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Metcalf. 

"  I  think  she  is  here — got  a  card  ?  "  he  asked,  ta]>})inga 
hell  at  his  hand  tor  a  servant.  ""  Take  this  to  nunilier  16," 
he  said,  handing  the  card  Charlie  gave  him  to  a  chamher- 
maid. 

Metcalf  glance<l  around  the  office  for  some  minutes, 
until  the  waitress  returned. 

"  Come  this  way,"  slie  said,  turning  and  retracing  her 
ste[)s  upstairs,  followed  hy  himself 

He  felt  his  heart  beating  a  tritie  faster  as  he  knocked 
upon  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  sweet,  clear  voice,  sounding  like 
musie  to  the  ears. 

He  went  in  and  his  eyes  once  more  rested  u[»on  the 
lady  who  had  nearly  wrecked  his  life. 

She  was  a  beautiful  woman  some  twenty-nine  years 
old.  Her  eyes  were  very  dark,  large  and  lustrous,  sjiark- 
ling  like  two  twin  diamonds.  Her  wealth  of  black  hair 
pushed  back  from  a  [»erfect  brow,  seemed  all  the  time  try- 
ing to  escape  from  its  contines.  A  Grecian  nose  and  rose- 
bud of  a  mouth  eom[tleted  a  face  of  peculiar  lovliness.  She 
was  rather  tall,  yet  her  tigure  was  beautifully  rounded,  and 
like  a  piece  of  statuary  in  curves  and  lines,  as  she  stood 
near  the  mantel,  with  one  elbow  resting  ujion  it.  She 
moved  gracefully  forward  as  Charlie  entered,  extending 
lier  right  hand. 

"  [  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  and  feel  deeply  grateful 
that  you  have  come,"  she  said,  as  he  seated  himself. 


That  bruisin'  lad  o'  (JREystonk  lodge.  107 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  am  entitled  to  an}  urcat  amount 
of  ijratitudo,"  he  answered,  cohll-v. 

"  I  expect  yon  are  very  much  surprised  to  see  me  here, 
hut  r  thought  it  hest  to  see  yon.  Cliarlie,  niy  Pennsylvania 
hushand  "^s  dead  I  '" 

Had  any  otlier  lady  announced  to  one  hushand  living 
that  another  husl)and  had  jnst  died,  with  her  flippant  tone, 
he  would  have  heen  shocked  ;  but,  nothing  that  Mamie 
might  say,  nor  her  manner  of  expressing  it,  coidd  evei- 
shock  him  now. 

"  When  did  he  die  ?  "  he  asked. 

'•  About  three  months  ago,"  she  answered.  "I  could 
not  he  prosecuted  now  Charlie  for  marrying  yon  w  hen  he 
was  living,,  could  I  ?  "  she  asked,  playing  with  a  tassel  upon 
her  wrapi»er. 

"  His  death  does  not  purge  the  bigamy,"  answered 
he.  '■'  But  the  statute  of  limitations  in  Pennsylvania  bars 
the  prosecution  of  the  oft'ense  after  five  years.  More  than 
that  time  has  elapsed  since  you  married  me,  so  you  stand 
in  no  danger  of  ever  being  prosecuted." 

"  I  am  tree  now,  am  I?  "  she  asked. 

"  Perfectly  so,"  he  said. 

"•  Well  now,  here.  You  have  heen  the  i.oblest  and 
truest  man  that  God  ever  created  towards  me,  and  1  will 
never  forget  you  for  it.  T  know  I  am  utterly  unworthy  of 
you,  but  if  yon  think  it  is  our  duty  not  to  part,  I  will 
re-marry  you  to-day,  and  endeavor  to  do  my  full  <lut}  as 
your  wife." 

"  That  can  never  be,"  he  said  quietly.  *  "  In  the  iirst 
lirst  place,  we  were  not  joined  together  as  man  and  wife, 
l)ecause  you  had  a  lawful  husband  living,  so  it  is  rather  our 
duty  to  part.  Again,  you  make  this  proposition  out  of 
gratitude,  which  I  could  never  feel  at  liberty  to  accept,  even 
if  there  was  no  other  impediment  to  prevent  our  being 
reunited.  But  there  is  an  obstacle  now  which  I  could 
never  overcome.       I  have  learned  to  love  another  woman." 


108  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  GREYSTONE  LODcBl 

"  Then  you  can  marry  her  and  he  happy,  can't  you?  '" 
she  asked.  "  Cliarlie,  I  know  you  think  I  am  all  levity  and 
nntrustworthy,  V)ecanse  you  have  cause  to  think  that  of  me; 
hut  as  God  is  my  witness,  I  long  to  see  yon  ha])pv.  I  know 
I  deceived  you  cruelly,  turned  you  from  a  wayw'ard,  happy 
boy  into  a  soured,  [irematurely  old  man.  I  deserve  pun- 
ishment, and  had  T  fallen  into  the  clutches  of  ordinary  men, 
I  W(^uld  probably  be  languisliing  now  in  the  walls  of  some 
prison,  undergoing  m}' just  deserts.  You  have  kept  silent 
at  the  expense  of  your  reputation,  for  time  and  again 
]>ersons  have  come  to  me  and  offered  their  sympathy, 
de})l()ring  the  fact  that  I  should  have  been  married  to  and 
deserted  b}'  that  awful  '  Bruisin'  Lad  O'  (Tireystone  Lodge.' 
I  hated  myself  for  listening;  I  longed  to  cry  out  and  tell 
them  the  truth,  but  I  was  too  selfish.  I  say  therefore,  I 
would  make  any  sacrifice  for  your  happiuess.  Any  woman 
could  trust  herself  to  you,  because  \'ou  would  die  before 
you  would  injure  a  hair  of  her  head,  Henceforth,  I  shall 
not  accept  a  dollar  of  your  hard  earned  money,  but  shall 
get  my  aunt  to  keep  me  until  my  circumstances  are  such  as 
will  cTiable  me  to  take  care  of  myself.  When  3'ou  first 
heard  of  my  deception  you  would  not  listen  to  uie  ;  you 
would  not  hear  a  single  extenuating  circumstance.  I  could 
not  l)lame  you  then  ;  I  do  not  now.  But  since  you  have 
softened  towards  me  a  little  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  acted 
as  I  did  because  I  loved  you  better  than  life  itselt.  Who 
could  hel[)  loving  you  ^f  they  once  knew  you  ?  Every 
silent  moment  which  you  have  endured  on  my  account  has 
been  richly  showered  with  the  tenderest  thoughts  and 
feelings  of  my  heart.  I  would  have  done  anytliiug  ;  com- 
mitted any  sin  to  have  gained  you,  because,  Charlie  Met- 
calf,  from  the  first  lK)ur  I  ever  saw  you,  you  have  been  the 
idol  of  my  girlhood,  the  lord  of  my  womanhood.  You 
know  I  am  telling  you  the  truth  now.  You  have  told  me 
that  you  love  the  other  wonum.  T  know  you  will  win  her, 
and  I  also  know  how  gently  and  kindly  you  will  deal  with 


TtiAt  BRUrsiN*   LAD  o'    (IREYSTONE  LolxjR.  109 

liwr  and  liow  happy  she  will  bo;  but  sin-  will  never  love 
you  as  I,  nor  would  she  saeritice  what  I  did  to  live  with 
you  for  a  short  time.  Kven  with  all  my  love  for  you, 
which  will  soon  wither  from  want  of  care,  I  wish  you  every 
hap}>iuess,  every  Joy  in  your  new  tound  treasure,  and 
(yharlie,  if  y(^u  cannot  love  me  won't  you  j't  least  pity  me 
and  say  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

She  bowed  her  head  until  it  rested  \\\>()U  her  arm  lying- 
on  the  tal)le.  Her  frame  quivered  and  then  sliook.  8he 
was  sobbing. 

Tears  flowed  freely  down  the  cheeks  of  the  Bruisin' 
Lad  as  he  rose  and  walked  to  where  she  was  sitting.  lie 
bent  gently  over  her  and  placed  liis  hand  u[)on  the  waving, 
shining  tresses. 

"  Mamie,"  he  said,  with  a  broken  voice,  "  don't  blame 
yourself.  I  am  ver}'  glad  you  have  beeii  so  candid,  and  as 
treely  as  I  hope  to  be  forgiven,  I  forgive  you  for  any  and 
all  wrong  you  ever  did.  If  necessary,  I  would  have  con- 
tinued on  in  silence  before  a  breath  of  sus[)ici()n  should 
have  rested  on  your  name.  It  is  all  over  now.  You  are 
young,  clever  and  beautiful.  .\[ake  your  ])eace  with  Ilim 
in  whom  we  live  and  move  and  have  oui"  being,  and  you 
will  yet  be  happy.  If  I  can  ev^er  do  anything  for  you,  and 
3'ou  will  let  me  know,  I  will  accomplish  it  if  possible.  And 
now  it  is  best  for  us  to  part,  so  let  me  say  good  l)ye." 

She  raised  her  head  slowly.  Throwing  her  arms 
around  him,  she  kissed  his  brow,  cheeks  and  lips. 

"  Good  bye,  Charlie,"  she  sobbed.  ''(tIo  away  at  once 
and  God  bless  you." 

Metcalf  moved  slowly  from  the  room.  He  glanced 
i)ack  at  the  bowed  figure,  and  silently  uttered  a  prater  for 
her  happiness. 

That  evening  at  seven  fort.y-flvo,  a  lady  closely  veiled 
left  upon  the  east  bound  train.  She  was  Mamie  Metcalf, 
pursuing  her  way  back  to  Baltimori'  with  a  sad  heart  and 
dark  future  path  before  her. 


llO  THAT  HUrTSTN*    LAD  0*    GREYSTONE  LODuE. 

On  reacliiiig  the  Sylvester  mansion  Metoalt'  ini|iiire(l 
for  Frank,  bnt  found  him  out. 

When  (lordon  went  in  search  of  Julia,  he  was  sure  she 
had  gone  to  pa  Sylvester.  She  generally  went  to  him  in 
her  troubles  with  ma  Sylvester.  He  was  perteetly  devoted 
to  his  girl,  and  spoiled  her  even  more  than  his  wife. 

Gordon  found  out  what  particular  Ijuilding  he  wa.s 
superintending  with  his  force,  and  directed  his  footsteps 
there.  It  was  almost  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  He 
went  into  two  or  three  bare  rooms  but  found  neither  ]iu 
Sylvester  nor  Julia.  Presently,  looking  down  the  hall  he 
spied  a  white  skirt  in  a  room  at  the  other  end  of  the  build- 
ing. He  walked  in  that  direction  as  fast  as  his  feet  could 
carry  him.  When  he  entered  the  untinished  door  she 
looked  up,  and  a  joyful  light  filled  her  eyes.  Xot  one 
glance  of  that  light  escaped  him.  As  he  ap})roached  she 
rose,  and  her  face  became  suffused  with  blushes.  In 
another  moment,  regardless  of  pa  Sylvester,  he  said  : 

"  My  darling,  I  have  come  for  you." 

"•  If  I  am  worth  having,  take  me,"  she  replied  softl}', 
looking  unutterable  things  out  of  her  large  dark  eyes. 

In  one  moment  he  had  her  in  his  arms.  As  she  nestled 
against  him  she  diminished  in  bulk  until  she  scarcely  looked 
half  of  her  ordinary  size.  Whether  it  was  the  contrast  by 
his  manly  figure  or  that  she  disappeared  in  some  kind  of. 
miraculous  way  it  is  impossible  to  sav. 

"You  dear,  sweet,  generous,  brave  little  darling  I  "  he 
whispered,  between  the  kisses. 

"You  mean,  sneaking,  underhand,  handsome  old  (lior- 
don  !  "  she  returned,  witli  the  prettiest  kind  of  a  tace. 

Again  he  pressed  her  to  him,  and  again  she  disappcai-ed 
in  that  mysterious,  peculiar  kind  of  way. 

"Oh  lor!"  she  exclaimed,  "pa  is  here.  Say  some- 
thing to  him." 

"  Now  in  a  minute,  dear,"  he  uttered  softly,  as  he  put 
her  through  that  vanishing  process  a  third  time. 


THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge.  ni 

"  Mr.  Sylvester,"  said  he,  releasiiiii;  Julia  at  last,  ^  your 
(laughter  has  consented  to  make  me  happy.  Give  us  your 
consent  V" 

"  It  seems  you  two  have  tixcd  up  the  matter  so  com- 
pletely that  you  scarcely  need  any  assistance,"  he  replied  in 
a  dazed  ^vay, 

"•  But  pa,  dear  pa,"  said  the  gii'l,  placing  her  hand 
through  his  arm  ;  ''  say  it  is  all  right,  won't  you  ?  I*a,  I 
always  love<l  you  so  dearly,  you  were  ever  nice  and  kind  to 
me,  say  you  won't  mind  I  " 

I  am  sure  as  you  have  already  settled  it  I  ought  ncJt  to 
interfere  without  a  cause,"  he  answered  lovingly,  as  he 
lookeddown  upon  her. 

"  Mr.  Sylvester,  allow  me  to  add  my  entreaties  to 
hers,"  smiled  Gordon.  "  I  am  sure  I  can  satisfy  you  as  to 
myself  and  family." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  about  that,  Mr.  Gordon,"  replied 
pa  Sylvester.  "  Well,  let  us  go  home  now,  Julia,"  and 
here  pa  Sylvester's  face  lengthened  considerably,  "  I  am 
somewhat  doubtful  as  to  how  your  ma  will  take  this,  "^'our 
ma  is  a  tine  woman,  Julia,  but  she  has  peculiar  notions  at 
times." 

"  I  am  afraid  Mrs.  Sylvester  will  oppose  our  [)lans," 
said  Frank.  "  She  doesn't  like  me  very  much.  She  has 
already  ex[)ressed  an  opinion  very  decidedly  against  my 
attentions  to  Julia." 

"Who  gave  you  permission  to  call  me  Julia":"'  she 
asked,  looking  archly  at  Gordon. 

"  Just  took  it  so,"  he  laughed, 

"  I*a,  you  do  \'our  best  with  ma,''  said  Julia,  siding  u]> 
to  him  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles.  "  Pa,  you  are  a 
ilear,  sweet  old  pa,  and  if  you  will  back  us  strong,  ma  will 
give  in.  Poor  ma  !  She  is  Just  as  good  and  nice  as  she 
can  be,  and  I  love  her  so  much." 

■  "  I  will   do  the   best  I  can,"    he  said,   dubiously,  "  but 

you  had  Ijest  make  up  your  mind  to  some  opposition,  my 


112  THAT  BRUISIN'   LAD  o'  ftREYSTONE  LODGE. 

(Icar.      Vour  ma  is  a  sjtlciulid  woman,  but  she  do.es  not  like 
to  give  in." 

When  they  reached  the  front  gate,  pa  went  in  first. 
The  young  people  lingered  a  moment  at  the  gate  in  the 
twilight.  Gordon  once  more  took  her  in  his  arms  and  she 
vanished  so  greatly  from  sight  that  her  white  dress  skirts 
were  alone  discernible.  lie  raised  her  dear,  sweet,  little 
face  to  his  and  kissed  the  rose-bud  of  a  mouth. 

"  Julia  !  "  called  her  ma. 

"  Oh  goodness  !  "  she  cried,  jerking  herself  from  Gor- 
don's'arms.     "I  wonder  what  ma  wants." 

"  I'll  take  your  part  this  time,  dear,"  he  .said,  as  they 
walked  towards  the  piazza. 

"Julia,  Mr.  Archer  wants  to  see  you,"  her  mother  said 
coldly. 

"  Where  is  he,  ma  ?  " 

"  He  is  in  the  parlor." 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  him  one  bit.  He  is  so  hateful," 
she  said,  irritably.  ' 

'•Go  in  and  see  him  at  all   events,"  said  ma  Sylvester. 

"  Yes,  go  in  and  speak  to  him  anyhow,"  urged  Gordon. 

Julia  placed  her  handkerchief  and  hat  upon  the  hall 
stand,  and,  with  a  i»arting  smile,  went  into  the  parlor. 

"Miss  Julia,  how  are  you ;  haven't  seen  you  for  a 
month  of  Sundays,"  he  said,  jerking  himself  up  from  his 
chair. 

Julia  heartily  wished  that  it  would  be  two  months  of 
Sundays  before  she  saw  him  again. 

"  I  am  well,"  she  answered,  coldly. 

"  Nice  weather  we  are  having  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Need  some  rain." 

"  Yes." 

Then  there  was  a  pause.  Archer  sat  u[ion  his  right 
hand,  and  rubb<^l  his  leg  with  his  left.  lie  doubled  up  his 
riirht  foot  under  his  chair. 


THAT  RRUISTN'    LAD  o'    r.KEYSTONE  LODGE.  113 

Hu  caiiK'  i'lilly  with  tlic  iiitt'iitioii  of  (locluriiii^  his  love, 
atnl  haviiit:;  it  out  with  her,  us  he  told  u  fellow  coiunide 
while  he  was  eoverini^  a  root". 

"  Miss  Julia,  what  about  our  tri[>  to  the  Springs,"  he 
asked. 

"  Dou't  know." 

"  Aro  you  goinij  ?  " 

"  Xo." 

"  Won't  vou  allow  ruv  to  take  you  out?  " 

"  No." 

-Why  not?" 

"  Because." 

"  Because  what  ?  " 

"  Xothing." 

"  Miss  Julia,  you  look  very  sweet." 

"Mr.   Archer!" 

'•Well!" 

"  It"  you  dare  t(j  use  any  such  expressions  as  that  to  me, 
I  will  be  under  tlie  necessity  ot"  leaving  the  room,"  she  said, 
tiring  u[t. 

"  Don't  kick  so  hard,"  he  said  "  Miss  Julia,  the 
trutli  will  out.     I— I— love— " 

It  didn't  out  in  this  case  though.  Before  he  had 
scarcely  g()tten  the  word  from  his  lips  she  Avas  upon  her 
feet,  her  eyes  darting  a  look  which  fairly  withered  him. 
She  was  furious.  Wasn't  she  Frank  Gijrdon's  property  ? 
Di(hi't  she  belong  to  him  ?  If  her  love  belonged  to  the 
stylish,  genteel,  clever,  insoaciatit  Frank  (Tror(h)n,  how  (hired 
this  lout  to  name  such  a  word  to  her.  For  a  moment 
utterance  failed  her.     At  last  she  said  : 

"  Mr.  Archer,  you  will  please  never  say  such  a  thing  to 
me  again." 

"  But,  Miss  Julia,  if  I  love— " 

''  Mr.  Archer!  "  she  interrupted. 

"  Love—" 

"  Stop  this  instant,"  she  cried  indignantly. 


Ill  Til  AT  BRUISIN'  Lad  o'  (UIEYSTONE  lodce. 


CniAPTEU  XITI. 


Tlic  time  slipped  ipiickly  h\\  ar,<l  the  dav  euiiie  at  last 
on  which  Metcalf  purposed  to  visit  VAxmi.  lie  spoke  Init 
little  of  his  pro[)Oscd  trip,  and  wiu'ii  he  hoarded  the  train 
that  Saturday  uiorniu;;-  Gordon  and  Julia  were  the  only 
persons  who  knew  anvthinu*  of  his  whereabouts. 


'^  If  I  h)ve— " 

"  If  you  don't  hush,"  she  aii:ain  interru})ted,  "  I'll — 
I'll—'' 

''  Do  what  ?  "  he  asked,  after  waiting  for  a  completion 
of  her  sentence. 

There  was  a  pause  as  the  color  sutfused  her  cheek. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  I  can't  help  it  if  I  do  l<»ve — " 

"  I'll  call  Mr.  Gordon  if  you  (h)n'r  hush,  that's  what  I 
will  do,"  she  said,  imperiously,  stam[)ing  her  toot, 

"  Gordon — what  has  he  got  to  do  with  it?"  he  asked, 
in  a  da/.ed  sort  of  way. 

Suddenly  his  face  Itrighieiied. 

"  I  know  what  yon  mean  now  !  "  he  crietl,  tiiumphantly. 
•'  You  are  goiiig  to  get  him  to  chamition  yon,  are  you  'i  I 
wish  you  w^ould.  How  I  would  love  to  pommel  his  tine 
head  !  He  never  worked  in  his  life.  I  would  knock  some 
of  those  citv  airs  out  of  him.  As  I  was  proireeding  to  say, 
if  I  love—" 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  Archer,"  slie  said,  moving  away. 
She  looked  hack  when  at  the  door,  and  saw  him  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  room  see-sawing  the  air  with  l)otli  tists, 
as  if  he  was  giving  Gordon  a  sound  druhhing. 


THAT  HRCISIN'  lad  0*  (iHEVRTOXK  LODOE.  115 

Al)()Ut  twelve  d'c'lork  111'  ste])po<l  t'roiii  tlir  ciii's  :it  Ktiia. 
ivosa  told  liiiii  wlu'iv  she  lived,  so  he  set  out  at  oiiee  to  tind 
liei'  home,  whieh  \va-  on  the  eastern  suhiirhs  of  the  city. 
IJetoro  i;oinir  far  he  t'omid  that  lie  ha<l  some  pretty  stiiK  hills 
to  pull.  At  last  he  came  to  the  forks  of  the  ro;id.  and  dis- 
covered that  he  ii.id  not  the  iJjhost  of  un  idea  wlii'-h  to  take. 
Piiusini::  and  dehatinii'  which  was  correct,  a  lady  came  up — 
a  larije,  stout,  line  lookinu;-  indiv'idual.     She  stopped  too. 

"(•an  you  tell  me  wliicli  road  we  take  here  to  reach 
Mrs.  Gooch's  I  '"  she  asked.  •'  I  knew  tlr-  way  lonic  time 
aifo,  but  have  for<j;otten  it.'" 

''  I  want  lo  iind  the  way  mysell',""  answered  he,  takinLT 
offhis  hat  to  the  lady. 

"'  [  think  we  take  the  left,"  she  said,  moviuii-  down  that 
lirancli  of  the  road. 

They  wulked  up  a  stecj)  ascent  until  they  came  to  a 
house.  There  u  man  informed  them  that  they  had  taken 
the  wron«i'  roud.  iietrsicinii"  their  stejts,  tliev  soon  Li'ot  into 
the  riglit  way,  and  in  fifteen  minutes  were  U'oinu"  up  the 
rocky  lane  near  Mrs.  Gooch's. 

"What  a  fearful  climb  I  "she  cxelaijned,  ."^toppiivx  a 
moment  and  puffing;  ;ind  blowino;. 

The  Bruisiir  Lad  did  not  think  the  ascent  so  awfully 
steep.  lie  concluded  it  must  be  the  lady's  maicniiicent  pro- 
portions wliich  caused  her  such  intense  e.\*ertion.  Never- 
theless, gallanfry  demanded  acf|uiescence  on  his  p»art. 

"It  is  extremely  steep,  and  then  it  is  so  wan^i,"  he 
said,  smiliuii:  jtleasantly  as  she  tried  it  affain. 

"  (^Misin  Klrnira  Ueynolds  should  take  my  visit  as 
([uite  a  compliment,"'  she  said,  lanii^hinir,  as  they  ])aused 
before  a  u'ate  at  the  side  of  a  lionse  constructed  of  plain 
Itoards.  Charlie  stopped  l>ecanse  she  did,  yet  lie  looked 
wonderiuii'ly  at  lier  for  so  dointr.     She  understood  him, 

"  There  is  a  bad  do<:;  here,"  shu  lan<j:he(l. 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  he  cried,  in  a  mock  alarmed 
voice,     '•  I  prefer  leaving  my  card  for  him." 


110  THAT  hruisin'  lad  o'  (;reyst6ne  lodgk. 

"  I  will  liollow,"  she  said.     "  Elniira  I  "  she  cried. 

"  Bow — wow — wow,"  barked  a  doer,  rushing  out  from 
a  back  building",  followed  bv  two  or  three  chihb-en. 

"  Sick'em,  Shocko,  sick'eni  I  "  thev  cried,  as  the  dog 
rushed  towards  the  gate. 

One  of  the  little  boys  became  so  much  amused  that  he 
rolled  over  and  over  again  in  the  grass,  while  Metcalf 
laughed  heartily  as  the  Fat  Lady  ]>oked  through  the  bars  of 
the  gate  at  the  dog  with  her  umWrella. 

"  (^ome  back  children,  go  in  the  house  I  "  called  out  a 
lady,  stepping  from  the  door  of  the  back  house  and  throw- 
ing a  sun  bonnet  over  her  head.  She  came  to  the  gate  in 
a  few  moments.  Metcalf  could  see  that  she  was  very  much 
Hurried.  s 

"  Sallie,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you;  come  in.  ITow  are 
3^ou,  sir;    walk  in,"  she  said,  looking  at  Metcalf 

All  proceeded  in  and  were  soon  seated  in  a  cozy  sitting 
room. 

"  T  hope  you  do  not  consider  mo  an  intruder,"  said 
Cyharlie.  "  I  supi)Ose  you  are  Miss  Rosa's  mother.  Metcalf 
is  my  name." 

"  I  have  heard  my  daughter  speak  of  you,  sir,"  she 
replied,  stifHy. 

Metcalf  took  a  good  look  at  her  as  she  sat  bolt-upriglit 
in  her  cliair.  One  thing  was  elearly  palpable.  She  was  not 
exi»ecting  them,  and  their  arrival  disconcerted  her.  Her 
black  dress  was  covered  here  and  there  with  spots  of  Hour, 
and  her  neck  was  in  that  collarless  condition  which  all 
female  necks  cannot  stand.  Her  boots  were  unbuttoned, 
and  the  leather  fittings  across  the  inste[)  hung  oxer  on  the 
sides.  As  much  as  the  Bruisin'  lia.l  was  charmed  witii 
Rosa,  candor  com[>elled  him  to  admit  that  her  mother,  like 
uia  Sylvester,  only  in  a  diifereiit  way,  was  a  jx.'culiar  jter- 
sonage.  lie  thought  none  the  less  of  her  on  that  account, 
because  it  is  only  that  class  of  peojile  who  know  l)etter  and 


TtiAT  IJRUISIN"    lad  o'    GREYSTONE  LODtiE.  117 

fail  to  do  better,  wliora  we  blame  for  not  beini?  what  they 
should. 

"  Sallie,  Avhj  didn't  you  all  let  me  know  you  were 
coming,"  she  said. 

Metcalf  took  the  "all'"  to  himself,  as  she  looked  at 
him  when  she  said  it. 

"  I  wrote  Miss  Rosa  I  was  eominu' — didn't  slie  say 
something  to  you  about  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

''  She  did  mention  it,  but  I  think  she  believed  you  were 
jesting,"  she  replied. 

"  I  will  ask  her  what  was  in  the  letter  to  make  her 
think  that,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,"  spoke  up  the  Fat  Lady,  "  you  must 
not  say  anything  about  the  letters." 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  surprised  that  the  Fat  Lady  should 
have  made  such  a  remark. 

She  looked  at  Mrs.  Reynolds.  Mrs.  Reynolds  looked 
at  her.  Telegraphic  dispatches  seemed  to  be  conveyed 
between  them  by  these  glances. 

"  Because,"  went  on  the  Fat  Lady,  "  Rosa  has  an  aunt 
who  does  not  like  for  her  to  receive  letters.'' 

"  Where  is  Miss  Rosa  ?  "  asked  Metcalf 

"  She  is  at  her  usual  place  of  cni[»l()yment,''  replied  her 
mother. 

"I  tell  you  how  to  do,  Elmira,"  went  on  the  Fat  Lady, 
who  seemed  to  be  full  of  resources.  "  Let  Mr.  Metcalf  go 
over  and  get  Rosa  and  bring  her  home. 

"  Rosa  might  not  like  that,"  suggested  her  mother. 

"  I'll  take  the  chances,  Mrs.  Reynolds,"  said  Metcalf. 
"  Give  me  the  number  oi  the  house  where  she  is  employed. 

For  a  moment  she  demiu'red,  but  on  being  urged  by 
the  Fat  Lady,  at  last  consented.  Taking  it  down  on  a  piece 
of  paper,  he  bade  them  good  morning. 

He  was  a  little  amioyed  at  Rosa's  thinking  he  was  jest- 
ing about  coming.  lie  wrote  her  \ery  i>()sitively  that  he 
would  be  down,  and  could  not  recall  any  act  (»f  his  whieh  justi- 


k 


ll'S  THAT  Rltrisix'    LAI)  ()■    (IREYStONK  LO!)(;R 

li('(l  lit'i"  ill  tliiiikiiiii'  tliiit  lie  would  jest  wliere  she  \v;is  con- 
eenied.  lieiiebiiii;' tlie  hotel,  lie  called  for  iiai)er  and  ink, 
and  wrote  her  as  follows  : 

''  I  am  here.  I  went  over  to  yonr  house  witli  your 
cousin  Sallie,  who  is  tliere  now,  ^ut  you  were  out.  I 
understand  you  said  I  was  not  in  earnest  ai)out  eoiuin<4' 
down,  hut  I  fail  to  comprehend  your  reason  for  saymy;  that. 
Now  that  I  am  here  I  w^ould  like  to  see  you.  May  I  hnvc 
tlu;  )»leasure  of  escortino;  you  home  this  afternoon  ?  I  will 
call  at  the  store  any  hour  you  may  susrtrest,  or  if  you  prefer, 
will  wait  until  you  ii'o  home  and  see  you  there. 

Yours,  yestf'rday,  to-day  and  forever, 

CiiAs.  Metaalf.'" 

Metcalf  had  no  idea  how  she  would  like  the  endiiiu;  of 
the  note,  but  as  it  was  the  truth  he  wrote  it,  and  sealini^ 
it,  sent  it  by  the  hotel  porter. 

Waitinii;  for  the  re[)ly,  he  wondered  what  she  would 
would  say.  Someliow  or  other  ho  felt  that  she  would  allow 
him  to  call  and  take  her  home,  because  .she  was  not  that 
stamp  of  girl  to  be  ashamed  of  her  employment.  He  knew 
he  was  not  a  little  excited  when  the  boy  returned  wMtli  tiie 
answer,  l)ecause  his  tinkers  trembled  as  he  tore  open  the 
envelo[)e.     Pushing  his  hat  back  on  his  head,  he  read  : 

"  I  am  really  mad  because  you  didn't  let  me  know  cer- 
tainly you  were  coming,  but  I  am  delighted  to  find  that 
Sallie  and  yon  are  here.  I  will  allow  you  to  escort  me 
lioim.'  with  pleasure  this  eveniiiii-.      Excuse  haste. 

IJOSA." 

"  P.  S. — Don't  call  here  until  six  o'clock,  because  // 
can't  get  off  before  then." 

A  smile  rippled  across  the  Bniisin'  Lad's  face  as  he 
read  the  postscrijit.  Of  course,  in  her  haste  she  wrote  "it  " 
for"!."  Clearly  it  was  a  mistake,  because  her  dictation 
and  expression  were  uiiusuall}'  lia]>i\\'  in  her  letters.  But 
the  mistake  was  so  funny,  the  "  it  can't  get  ofl""  so  cute, 
that  his  smile  ripjiled  broader  and  broader,  until  he  was 
laughing  softlv  to  himself        lie  thought  that  she  was  tlie 


THAT  IJIUISIX"    LAD  ()*    (5REYST0NK  LODCi:.  11!' 

most  natural,  iii!i;eiin()iis,  uiiaiivctcd  and  swi^'ctcnt  "  it  " 
lie  had  ever  known  in  his  lite. 

lie  went  out  tiien  to  see  something  of  the  city,  luit 
during  the  whole  time  hung  uhout  that  part  where  she  was 
at  work.  lie  liked  her^all  the  more  tor  not  being  asliamed 
to  meet  him  at  the  [)lace  of  her  em[)Ioyuient  in  her  every 
day  Working  costume.  He  went  halt  a  dozen  times  at  least 
to  the  hotel  to  see  what  hour  it  was.  Every  lady's  hat  he 
saw  was  duly  ins[)ected,  and  he  wondered  it"  Rosa  trimmed 
it.  It  she  jdid,  he  longed  to  have  been  in  the  hat's  place. 
But  the  longest  time  slips  away  after  awhile.  It  was  fifteen 
minutes  to  six  the  last  time  he  went  to  the  hotel,  so  lie  made 
preparations  to  go  up  and  escort  her  home. 

Xearing  the  store  where  she  was  at  work,  the  IJruisin' 
Lad  began  to  get  excited.  Tliis  middle  aged  man  with 
nerves  like  steel,  who  never  lost  his  presence  of  mind  under 
any  circumstances,  walked  [)ast  the  door  of  the  establish- 
ment twice  before  he  could  compose  himself  sufhciyntly  to 
go  in.  Recognizing  his  own  heart  beats  and  cpiickened 
jiulse,  he  was  jifraid  every  one  in  the  store  would  know 
about  them  too.  At  last,  composing  his  features,  and  con- 
trolling his  heart  the  l)est  he  could,  he  walked  in.  The 
lirst  [)ers()n  he  saw  was  Rosa,  standing  between  the  counter 
antl  window  in  a  kind  of  sipiare  space. 

She  came  forward  gracefully  and  easilj-,  and  liy  the 
most  consummate  tact,  assisted  greatly  in  relieving  him  of 
his  emi)arrassment. 

Metealf  could  see  she  was  glad  to  see  him.  Her  s}iark- 
ling  eye,  blushing  cheek  and  overflowing  smile  told  the  tale, 
strive  as  she  might  t(»  conceal  it.  He  scarcely  knew  which 
showed  the  riciiest  color,  her  cheeks  or  a  lovely  shade  of 
pink  ribbon  she  held  in  her  hand. 

Xever  in  the  walls  of  any  palatial  mansion,  by  the  side 
of ->ome  fair  belle,  was  he  half  so  ha[)py  as  standing  in  this 
little  corner — he  looked  into  tlie  artless,  smiling  lace  of  this 
iuijenuous  maiden. 


120  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  (Jreystone  lodge. 

Foj'  fluj  time  l)ciii,u'  it  \v;i.s  like  a  rlreani:  the  little  space 
ap[)eare(l  iilled  with  love  ;  tlie  hats,  ril>l)ons  and  trininnni^s 
iiii|)rei>;nated  with  love;  every  breath  of  air  whispered  love, 
soiiiidiiiii:  lil«^  tlie  musical  notes  of  an  yEolian  harp  miles 
away,  played  on  hy  vibrations  of  wind,  sighing  love,  and 
she  standing  before  him,  with  her  natural,  ingenuous  num- 
ner,  l(joke<l  as  if  she  was  l)orn  for  love. 

To  him  slie  was  the  whole  female  sex,  none  others 
existed.  Looking  ujton  her,  it  seemed  tliat  he  had  loved 
her  from  eternity ;  that  he  wa.s  born  for  that  pur[>o.se  and 
she  created  to  fill  every  void  in  his  heart ;  that  his  love  had 
never  been  awakened  before,  in  order  that  its  wealth, 
strength  and  purity  might  be  given  to  her  alone.  He 
looked  into  her  ayef^  with  an  intensity  which  seemed  l>ent 
u]»on  gauging  every  beat  of"  her  heart,  while  she  shyly 
returned  it  with  an  innocent,  guileless  ex}>ressi()n,  knowing 
that  he  would  only  guage  a  heart  worthy  the  noblest  and 
highest  love  wdiich  man  could  bestow  upon  woman. 

Presently  he  lieard  the  musical  tones  of  her  voice,  as  if 
they  were  "  over  the  hills  and  far  away."  /jlradually  their 
sound  came  nearer  and  nearer  until  he  heard  them  right  at 
his  ears. 

"  Why  didn'tyou  bring  Julia  with  you,"  she  was  saying. 

"  Gordon  would  have  gone  into  convulsions,"  he  said, 
"  if  she  had  come." 

"  You  don't  mean — " 

"  Yes,  I  do  mean,"  lie  interru[tted,  with  a  signilicant 
glance. 

"Well,  lam  surprised!"  she  exclaimed,  pausing  a 
moment  in  her  occupation  of  placing  a  piece  of  ribbon  in 
the  show  case.  "  Xo,  I  am  n(it  so  sur}>rised  either.  Things 
were  looking  in  that  direction  when  I  left  there." 

"  You  are  like  the  person  who  loses  an  old  relation," 
he  laughed.  ''  "^'ou  would  not  have  been  surprised  at  his 
death  any  [)articular  time,  but  when  he  died  you  were 
shocked." 


THAT  BRUISIn'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  121 

"  That's  it  exactly,"  she  said.  "  But  isn't  that  rather 
contradictory  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  so,"  he  rei)lied. 

"  Mr.  Metcalt",  please  excuse  me,  I  didn't  mean  it,  but 
I  have  been  keejiing  y^u  standing  all  this  time,"  she  said, 
with  a  contrite  look, 

"  It  doesn't  matter,  you  have  it  to  do,"  he  answered. 

"  Oh,  but  I  am  different  !  It  is  my  duty,"  she  said, 
"  See  that  stool  over  yonder  at  the  end  of  the  counter  ? 
Take  that  and  sit  down  until  I  get  these  things  put  a^way,  and 
then  we  will  go." 

"  I  don't  want  to,"  he  pleaded. 

"  But  you  must,"  she  ordered. 

"  Suppose  I  won't  ?  "  he  asked, 

"  Then  I'll  make  a  face  at  you  if  you  don't,"  she  said, 
looking  saucily  at  him. 

"  And  if  you  do,  I  will  kiss  you  if  I  have  to  run  you 
in  one  of  these  bandboxes  to  catch  you,"  he  laughed, 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,  you  are  mean  enough  to  do  anything. 
Go  now  and  take  that  stool,  and  mind,  don't  you  get  in 
anybody's  way." 

She  pointed  towards  the  seat  in  an  imperious  manner, 
and  Metcalf,  that  Bruisin'  Lad  O'  Greystone  Lodge,  who 
was  never  known  to  obey  anyone  in  his  lite,  Avho  invariably 
had  his  own  way,  it  mattered  not  the  cost,  walked  obedi- 
ently to  the  stool  and  took  his  seat.  There  he  sat  watching 
every  one  of  her  movements  like  some  great  mastiff  would 
gaze  at  his  fragile  mistress,  ready  to  Ijound  up  at  her  call, 
or  place  his  head  upon  his  paws  when  ordered  by  a  simple 
motion  of  her  hand,  never  once  removing  his  eyes  from  her 
countenance.  This  powerful  sensation  you  call  love  is  the 
most  mysterious  thing  in  this  world  except — a  woman. 

After  wdiile  Charlie  saw  her  go  in  a  l)ack  room,  and  in 
a  moment  return  with  her  hat,  gloves  and  sun  umbrella. 

"  Come  on  now,"  she  called. 

In  a  second  he  was  by  her  side. 


122  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  Let  me  take  your  umbrella,"  said  he.  "  Look  here  ! 
What  did  you  mean  by  saying  you  didn't  believe  me  ?" 

"  I  didn't  say — I  mean  I  didn't  think  you  were  coming," 
she  said.     "  I  thought  you  were  only  jesting."' 

"  Well,  you  stop  thinking  on  that  subject,"  he  growled. 

"  Now  you  are  getting  in  one  of  your  old  teasing, 
mean  tits  again,"  she  said,  drawing  on  her  gJoves.  "Come 
—let's  go."" 

They  wended  their  way  down  the  street  oblivious  to 
all.  How  happy  they  were.  The  whole  world  was  pleasant 
to  them.  The  rough,  ragged  street,  crowded  with  hot, 
dusty  pedestrians,  was  a  walk  of  pleasure  ;  the  bridge  span- 
ning the  Cressida  river  a  network  of  fairy  visions;  the 
water  rolling  beneath,  but  a  mirror  to  retiect  their  liappi- 
ness  as  they  stood  over  it,  oijc  asking  the  other  what  each 
would  do  if  either  should  fall  in  ;  the  rugged  road  beyond, 
up  the  steep  ascent  a  pathway  of  roses,  along  which  they 
trod  leisurely,  stopping  ever  and  anon  to  [)luck  a  wild 
dower  or  look  into  each  other's  eyes  and  say  those  soft 
nothings  so  precious  t9  themselves,  so — foolish  to  a  cold, 
callous,  outside  world. 

When  they  reached  the  lane  leading  to  her  aunt's  house, 
they  paused  a  moment  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  setting  sun. 

"  Miss  Rosa,  what  do  you  generally  do  on  Sunday,"  he 
asked. 

"  Sunday  school,  church  ;  dinner,  cliurch ;  supper, 
church,"  she  replied. 

"  You  get  pious  on  Sunday,  then."' 

"  Not  so  much  a  matter  of  piety  as  going  around.  It 
is  the  only  day  I  have  and  I  go  out  to  see  something  of  the 
world  and  its  wife." 

"  Can  I  go  the  whole  rounds  with  yon  to-morrow  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Everything  ?  " 

"  Yes,  everything,  including  dinner  and  sujiper."" 

"  Why  certainly,  if  mama  is  willing." 


THAT  nRTTISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  123 

By  this  time  thoy  liad  reached  the  little  gate  leading 
into  Mrs.  Gooeh's  inclosure.  They  stood  looking  over  the 
surrounding  hills  as  their  to[is  reflected  the  variegated  colors 
made  hv  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  The  hills  clothed 
with  all  their  summer  verdure,  the  huilding  and  glittering 
church  spires  standing  forth  like  so  many  towers  and  hat- 
tlemonts  in  some  feudal  age;  the  cloud-flecked,  red  horizon 
stretching  away  to  the  hills  beyond,  illuminated  by  a  glaring 
ball  of  flre  sinking  gradually  into  unfathomable  depths  ;  the 
lovely  face  of  the  dark-eyed  maiden  radiated  by  the  invisi- 
ble zone  of  love,  all  caused  the  Bruisin'  Lad  to  feel  as  if  he 
was  in  some  enchanted  paradise  of  pleasure. 

Both  were  equally  impressed  with  the  scene,  and 
neither  spoke  for  a  moment.  Theie  is  v  time  like  this  in 
the  lives  of  many,  when  the  heart  is  so  tilled  with  unspeak- 
able pleasure  that  the  mouth  dare  not  give  forth  an  utter- 
ance tor  fear  the  enchantment  may  be  dispelled. 

"  Beautiful,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  voice  re-echoing 
the  impression  upon  his  heart  rather  than  seeking  an}' 
answer  to  the  question. 

"  Lovel}',"  she  returned,  in  the  same  absent  way. 

Presently  he  turned  his  face  towards  hers.  Their  eyes 
met  tor  one  moment.  Her's  drooped  with  a  quivering 
expression  ;  his  turned  again  towards  the  west.  In  that 
look  the  Bruisin"  Lad  and  Bosa  Reynolds  knew  that  they 
loved  each  other  with  that  higher  and  purer  love  which 
never  passeth  aAvay. 

Xeither  uttered  a  word.  .  A  tigure  of  sj^eech  at  that 
moment  to  express  what  either  felt  would  have  been  sacri- 
ligious.  Each  knew  it  and  was  silent.  Both  intuitively- 
recognized  that  the  strength  and  character  of  the  love  they 
possessed  was  as  lasting  and  impregnable  as  the  old,  old 
hills  they  gazed  upon,  and  that  the  one  could  be  swept 
away  as  easily  as  the  other. 

Silently,  almost  sacredly  he  placed  her  umbrella  against 
the  fence.       He  turned  and  retraced  his  steps  towards  tlie 


l24  THAT  BRUISIN'    lad  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGfi 

city.  As  liis  figure  receded  into  the  darkening  shadows  of 
twilight — silently  she  walked  into  the  house. 

When  Metcalf  readied  his  hotel  he  found  his  cousin 
and  another  gentleman  waiting  to  receive  him. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  asked  Malcolm  Greame. 
'*  We  have  been  waiting  here  for  an  hour." 

"  When  did  you  reach  town  V"  inquired  Metcalf  of  his 
cousin,  Greame. 

"  I  arrived  this  evening.  I  saw  your  name  upon  the 
liotel  register.  We  want  you  to  make  u}>  a  game  of  three- 
ball  billiards ;  I  tbld  the  fellows  you  were  a  crack  player, 
so  you  must  sustain  the  reputation  gone  ahead. 

Metcalf  reflected  a  moment.  Billiards  meant  cham- 
pagne, and  in  all  probability  a  niglit's  carousal.  He  now 
felt  a  distaste  for  such  things.  A  better,  purer,  and  higher 
impulse  Avas  fast  growing  in  him  since  he  learned  to  love 
this  girl.  His  thoughts  soared  after  something  which  would 
make  him  grander  and  nobler  in  all  things.  He  made  u[) 
his  mind  to  take  no  part  in  the  game. 

"  Greame,  I  don't  feel  equal  to  playing,"  he  said,  kindly 
yet  tirmly. 

"  Why,  what's  up  ?" 

"Nothing." 

Greame  looked  at  him  in  astonishment,  and  turning 
upon  his  heel,  left  with  the  rest. 

Do  not  think  that  Charles  Metcalf  was  an  abstemious 
man  about  these  things.  To  the  contrary,  at  one  time  he 
was  just  the  reverse.  No  person  had  been  fonder  of  pleas- 
ure in  every  way  than  he.  A  selfish  gratification  of  every 
want  was  what  caused  his  talents  to  lie  hidden.  But  now, 
for  her  sake,  he  wanted  to  soar  aloft ;  to  make  himself  in 
every  way  worthy  of  her. 

Sitting  by  the  window  in  his  room,  he  thought  a  great 
deal  about  her.  In  every  imaginable  way  her  face  came 
before  his  mental  vision,  conjuring  up  the  noblest  desires  in 
the  mail's  whole  nature  :  thus  drawing  in  conflict  old  estab- 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE,       125 

lished,   selfish    lialnts,*   with    new-born,    better   and    hiiiher 
impulses : 

Some  thought  wrmirt  rise  and  eome  to  vipw 
Whispering,  "now,  tills  course  pursue." 
A  gentler  oue  tlieu  took  its  place. 
And  held  aloft  her  conq'ring  face. 

Some  old  time  wish  would  want  its  sway, 
And  long  to  go  the  old  time  way, 
But,  like  the  moon  chased  by  the  sun, 
The  new  thought  comes,  the  old  Is  done. 

Witli  gratitude  and  heartfelt  praise. 
He  sees  recede  those  old  time  ways. 
Encircling  'round  this  new  born  thought, 
Shine  the  gems  thus  newly  wrought. 

'Midst  those  gems  with  purest  light. 
Like  some  central  jewel  bright, 
Shines  her  face  so  free  from  guile, 
Beck'ning  with  its  winsome  smile. 

Beck'ning  how?    Ah,  with  that  grace. 
Which  purest  hearts  ere  lend  the  face! 
Beck'ning  from  the  old  time  days, 
Beck'ning  now  to  higher  ways. 

The  moon  mounted  hiii:her  and  higher.  The  stars 
changed  their  position.  Everything  l)ecaiue  quiet,  and  not 
a  murmur  broke  the  absolute  stillness  of  the  night. 

Metcalf  thought  and  thought.  At  hist  he  rose  to  retire. 
He  was  calmer  and  more  peaceful  now  ;  the  inun  had 
fought  the  battle.  The  love  of  the  frail  little  woman,  rest- 
ing doubtless  now  in  slumber,  conquered.  Charles  Metcalf, 
before  retiring,  did  something  he  had  not  done  for  years — 
he  knelt  in  prayer. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Sundaj'  was  ushered  in  clear,  bright  and  beautiful. 
The  Bruisin'  Lad  was  over  at  Mrs.  Gooch's  Ijctimes  to  get 
Mrs.  Reynold's  consent  to  go  the  rounds  with  Rosa.    There 


l2(j  TilAT  nKi'ISTN*    LAD  0*    (JREYStONfi  LOt>GE. 

was  no  trouble  on  that  score ;  so  about  nine  o'clock  Metcalf 
and  Rosa  set  off,  as  lively  and  cheerful  as  a  pair  of  crickets. 

They  had  a  thorouo:hly  enjoyable  day  in  every  way. 
The  reserve  hitherto  existing  had  been  blown  away  by  yes- 
terday evening's  revelation  to  them,  and  he  fell  into  the 
position  of  ackowleged  suitor,  which  she  tacitly  accepted. 
Little  quarrels  al)Out  how  the  umbrella  should  be  carried  ; 
disputes  about  the  various  wild  flowers  along  the  way 
were  all  indulged  in,  with  arm  pressing  against  arm,  and 
the  utmost  freedom.  Acts  of  j»roprietorship  l)egan  to 
crop  up. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,  put  your  hat  back  over  your  head,"  slie 
said  imperiously. 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"Because  you  look  so  mucli  better  with  it  pushed  back 
tluui  hanging  low  over  your  hrow." 

The  hat  was  proj^erly  adjusted  and  the  change  ap|)roved, 
after  a  critical  examination.  When  they  reached  the 
church  Metcalf  said  that  he  was  going  down  to  the  hotel 
wliile  she  attended  her  class  in  the  Sunday  school,  and 
A\'oul(l  return  to  take  her  to  church. 

"  No,  you  go  with  me  to  Sunday  school,"  she  said 
imperatively. 

So  he  went  in  without  a  murmur,  and  watched  the 
whole  proceedings   until  the  class  was  dismissed. 

Metcalf  smiled  to  himself  as  he  thought  how  this 
untutored  little  woman  ordered  him  around,  and  what  a 
pleasure  it  was  to  obey  her  slighest  wish.  He  wondered 
what  John  Gordon  and  other  old  friends  would  say  if  they 
could  see  him  quietly  sitting  through  a  Sunday  school  pro- 
ceedings, because  ordered  to  do  so  by  a  seventeen-year-old 
miss.     At  least,  they  would  smile  at  the  transformation. 

After  Sunday  school  he  expressed  a  desire  to  go  and 
hear  Doctor  Warburton  preach.  She  quickly  consented, 
and    left    her    own    church.     When  there,   they    made    a 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  O'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  127 

ix'iiiurkably  hiuulsome  pair,  as  they  stood  using  tlie  same 
liyiunal,  and  sat  shoulder  to  shoulder. 

During  one  of  the  jtrayers  he  was  first  struck  since  he 
had  known  her  with  her  l)eauty.  Leaning  the  right  side 
of  her  face  on  the  end  of  the  book,  the  front  was  turned 
towards  him,  with  the  long  sweeping  lashes,-  G-recian  nose 
ami  rul)v  mouth,  rounded  chin  and  perfect  neck.  There 
was  a  little  pout  on  her  mouth,  produced  by  the  pressui*e  of 
one  side  of  her  face  on  the  book,  that  was  simply  ravish- 
inur.  How  he  loncj^ed  to  touch  it  with  his  own.  Kneeliuij 
at  the  second  prayer,  her  face  was  in  a  ditlerent  position. 
He  bent  over  and  whispered  to  her  : 

"■  Put  the  side  of  your  face  on  the  book  again." 

Slowly  and  easily  the  face  was  turned  until  it  occupied 
the  same  position  again,  and  the  Bruisin'  Lad  was  allowed 
to  feast  his  eyes  to  his  heart's  content. 

In  the  afternoon  and  at  night  he  was  with  her  again, 
and  one  thing  taught  him  how  enraptured  he  was.  Although 
by  her  side  all  day,  he  never  experienced  the  least  ennui; 
was  charmed  and  amused  all  the  time,  and  constantly  found 
something  about  her  different  from  what  he  saw  in  other 
ladies. 

That  night,  just  before  leaving  to  go  back  to  the  city, 
the  Fat  Lady  asked  him*  to  inform  her  when  he  would 
return  to  Shirly.  He  told  her  the  following  afternoon. 
She  announced  her  intention  of  going  at  the  same  rime.  It 
was  then  arranged  that  Mrs.  Reynolds  should  take  the  Fat 
Lady  to  the  station  and  the  Bruisin'  Lad  go  by  for  Rosa  at 
Miss  Limstone's  just  before  the  train  left,  so  that  both  Mrs. 
Reynolds  and  Rosa  could  see  them  off.  The  Bruisin'  Lad 
noticed  during  the  evening  a  decided  coolness  towards  him- 
self on  the  part  of  the  Fat  Lady  and  Mrs.  Reynolds. 

During  the  day,  while  Rosa  and  Charlie  were  ha[t[»ily 
treading  the  pathway  of  love,  tfie  Fat  Lady's  mind  was 
ruminating  about  Metcalf.  She  felt  more  and  more  certain 
that  she  had  heard  something  about  him.    First,  she  recalled 


128  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

the  fact  that  he  used  to  drive  by  Lancing  Court  House  in  a 
(lashing,  wild  way,  and  the  inhabitants  called  him  some- 
thing. Then  it  dawned  upon  her  that  he  was  the  Metcalf 
who  had  spent  the  large  estate ;  and  finally  her  memory,  in 
a  cloudy  way,  brought  home  the  fact  that  he  was  the  gentle- 
man who  married  the  lovely  lady  from  Pennsylvania.  Her 
hands  went  up  in  holy  horror  at  the  thought  of  her  female 
relatives  receiving  a  gentleman  who  was  married,  and  she 
instantly  sought  out  Mrs.  Reynolds  and  imparted  this  infor- 
mation to  her.  They  held  a  council  of  war  against  Metcalf, 
reaching  the  conclusion  that  all  intercourse  must  cease,  until 
full  inquiries  could  be  made.  The  Fat  Lady  would  go  at 
once  to  Shirly,  and  consult  ma  Sylvester,  the  oracle  in  the 
family. 

That  evening,  subsequent  to  the  Bruisin'  Lad's  dei»art- 
ure  and  while  Rosa  was  retiring,  her  mother  came  into  her 
room. 

"  Rosa,  I  wnsh  to  speak  with  you  a  moment." 

"  What  about,  mama?" 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,"  she  answered.  "  Rosa,  have  you  ever 
written  to  him  ?  " 

"  Yes — one  letter  and  a  note,"  she  answered. 

"  Get  them  back  at  once,"  she  said.  "Rosa,  be  very 
careful  what  you  say  and  do  con!;eri)ing  him." 

"  Why,  mama  ?  "  she  asked,  evident  surprise  <lepicted 
upon  her  countenance. 

"•  Because  I  tell  you  to.  I  will  give  you  my  reason 
afterwards." 

"  Very  good,  mama,"  she  said  as  she  proceeded  to 
disrol)e. 

Mrs.  lieynolds  instantly  reported  the  subject  of  this 
conversation  to  the  Fat  Lady.  "And,"  slie  said,  "when 
Rosa  asks  for  a  return  of  her  letters,  he  will  see  that  she 
does  not  like  him,  and  will  go  away  never  to  come  back 
again." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  the  Fat  Lady. 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    (JREYSTONE  LODGE.  129 

It  (lid  not  seciii  to  occur  to  cither  one  of  the  ladies  that 
liosa  could  demand  the  return  of  those  letters  in  a  manner  that 
Avould  scarcely  cause  a  ripple  upon  the  intercourse  between 
lierself  and  the  Bruisin'  Lad.  She  was  only  seventeen 
years  old,  and  she  would,  of  course,  obey  her  mother;  not 
a  single  time,  though,  did  it  occur  to  her  to  wound 
Metcalf 's  feelings  by  so  doing. 

The  following  day,  while  they  were  going  to  the  station, 
Kosa  approached  the  subject. 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  me  to  do  something,"  she 
said. 

"  Yes,  what  is  it  ? " 

"  Give  me  back  the  letter  and  note  I  wrote  you." 

"  You  are  the  quintessence  of  meanness,"  he  said, 
hiughing.  "  Make  me  promise  to  do  the  last  thing  I 
would  care  about  ]jerforming." 

"  You  Avon't  care,"  she  said,  saucily. 

"  IS'ot  a  bit,"  he  said,  ironically.  "  But  what  are  your 
reasons  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  good  reason,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "  which  I 
will  tell  you  the  next  time  I  see  you." 

"  Will  you  promise  me  one  thing?  "  he  asked  in  return. 

"  Why  certainly,"  she  replied.     "  What  is  it?  " 

"  Answer  me  three  questions  truthfully,"  he  said. 

"What  are  they?" 

"  Have  I  done  or  said  an^'thing  to  cause  you  to  make 
this  request  ?  " 

"  That  you  haven't." 

"  Is  it  because  ;you  do  not  wish  any  correspondence 
between  us  ?  " 

"  Ko  indeed,"  she  said.  "  Your  lette-rs  give  me  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure.  " 

"  Do  your  reasons  extend  so  far  that  you  think  my 
letters  should  cease  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  they  do  not — whenever  they  do  I  will  let 
you  know." 


130  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"Under  these  circumstances  your  lettert^  shall  come 
back  to  you  at  once." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  simply, 

Metcalf  never  thought  once  of  pressing  her  for  a  reason 
why  she  wanted  them  returned.  He  knew  some  extrinsic 
power  had  been  brought  to  bear,  and  that  she  would  tell 
him  at  the  proper  time.  She  used  the  same  naive  simplicity 
in  doing  this  that  she  exhibited  in  every  one  of  her  acts. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  vain,"  he  said,  "  but  what  will  you 
do  after  I  am  gone  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  straight  to  the  pcstoliice  and  get  your 
letter  you  wrote  and  read  it.  I  know  the  one  sent  on  Fri- 
day is  there,  because  I  have  not  received  it  yet." 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  amused  by  it,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"  I  like  your  letters.  They  tell  so  much  news  and  are 
so  jolly,"  she  said. 

"I  like  to  give  you  pleasure  and  amusement.  I  can 
never  repay  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  me,"  he  said, 
earnestly. 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  You  are  influencing  me  towards  a  higher  and  better 
life  than  I  ever  led  before." 

"You  wrote  me  that,  Mr.  Metcalf,  but  isn't  it  more 
than  I  am  entitled  to  ?  " 

"  ^o,  I  do  not  think  so,"  he  said,  as  they  reached  the 
station. 

The  Fat  Lady  and  Mrs.  Reynolds  were  cooler  than 
ever  to  Charlie.  They  scarcely  said  a  word  to  him  as  they 
sat  on  the  benches  in  the  reception  room  waiting  for  the 
train.  When  it  thundered  up  Metcalf  found  a  seat  for  the 
Fat  Lady  and  then  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  car  talking  to 
liosa.  Finally  he  stepped  down  upon  the  platform  in  order 
to  say  something  he  did  not  wish  the  others  to  hear. 

"  Rosa,  let's  go,"  said  her  mother. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Fat  Lady,  "  you  had  better  start. 
The  train  will  leave  directly." 


I 


THAT  BRUISIN'  lad  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  131 

111  ;in  instant  Charlie  Metcalf  became  That  Bruisin' 
Lad  O'  Greystone  Lodge  in  feelings  when  these  ladies 
deliberately  inaiKruvred  to  l)rcak  in  npon  a  simple  pleasnre 
which  could  not  have  possibly  harmed  anyone.  Whenever 
he  took  an  opposite  stand  against  a  person,  he  was  never 
satisfied  with  holding  his  position  simply,  but  he  became 
very  aggressive,  and  was  so  nasty  and  disagreeable  that 
one  moved  as  far  as  possible  from  him.  He  made  up  his 
mind  to  say  what  he  wanted,  and  determined  now  to  take 
her  ott. 

"•  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  alone,"  he  exclaimed, 
with  that  steely  gleam  coming  in  his  eyes. 

Any  refusal  on  Rosa's  part  or  objections  liy  Mrs.  Tiey- 
iiolds  or  the  Fat  Lady  would  have  brought  the  (piestioii 
from  the  Bruisin'  Lad's  lips  at  once: 

"  What  are  your  reasons  for  objecting  ?" 

Mrs.  Reynolds  saw  it ;  the  Fat  Lady  felt  it,  and  Rosa 
knew  it.  The  latter  moved  aside  with  him  as  he  handed 
lier  the  nml)rella  which  he  was  carrying  for  her  and  had 
forgotten  to  give  her. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  say  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  softly 
towards  him. 

"  I  wanted  to  say  that  if  vou  think  I  had  better  not 
write  to  you  I  will  not  do  so.  I  have  so  much  conlidenee 
ill  you  that  nothing  you  could  ever  do  would  make  me 
tliink  less  of  you,  because  I  love  you  more  than  any 
woman — '" 

"Don't  speak  (piitc  so  loud,"  she  interrupted,  raising 
her  finger  until  she  almost  touched  his  lip. 

"  Love  you  more  than  any  woman  I  ever  met,"  he  fin- 
ished.' 

"  You  talk  so  loud,"  she  said,  as  wave  after  wave  of 
color  passed  over  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes  looked  softly 
into  his. 

Having  said  his  say,  the  Bruisin'  Lad  took  his  position 
again  upon  the  steps  of  the  train. 


132  THAT  BRUTSIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  Come  on  Rosa,  it  is  time  we  were  goiiioj,"  said  Mrs. 
Reynolds. 

"  Yes,  we  can't  talk  any  more,"  assented  the  Fat  Lad}'. 

"Don't  go  nntil  the  train  leaves,  Miss  Rosa,"  urged 
Metcalf.  "'  Don't  go  hack  to  that  hot,  stnfty  store  until  yon 
are  oldiged.  Miss  Limestone  sai<l  you  couhl  stay  until 
after  the  train  left." 

"  Oh  Mama,  wait  until  Sallie  goes  before  we  leave," 
she  said.  . 

Mrs.  Reynolds  looked  many  things  at  Metcalf,  in 
which  the  Fat  Lady  heartily  joined.  lie  looked  over  Mrs. 
Reynolds  at  Rosa  all  the  time.  As  the  train  pnlled  out 
from  the  station  the  last  face  he  got  aglim])se  of  was  Rosa's. 
That  was  Just  as  he  wanted  it. 

"  She'll  do,"  he  muttered,  taking  a  seat  and  replacing 
his  hat  with  a  traveling  cap. 

Those  words  uttered  by  many  persons  might  have  been 
almost  meaningless  ;  said  by  the  Bruisin'  Lad  they  meant 
that  if  he  did  not  see  her  for  ten  years  he  would  have  im- 
plicit faith  in  her.  He  was  satisfied  that  in  every  position 
she  took,  duty  would  be  the  governing  motive,  and  that  was 
just  the  line  of  conduct  he  would  have  her  adopt. 

Pursuing  his  way  to  Sliirly,  he  had  ample  time  for 
tliought.  He  understood  the  machinations  of  the  Fat  Lady 
and  Mrs.  Reynolds  just  as  well  as  if  he  had  been  told. 
Further,  he  keew  before  sundown  this  evening  that  ma 
Silvester  and  the  Fat  Lady  would  l)e  scheming  together  to 
break  up  all  intercourse  between  Rosa  and  himself.  He 
was  satisfied  that  in  a  measure  they  would  accomplish  it. 
In  that  case  he  would  have  to  wait — that's  all,  because  he 
no  mo'^e  doul)ted  Rosa's  abiding  faith  than  he  distrusted 
holy  writ.  He  would  watch  events;  believe  in  Rosa  before 
everything;  pursue  his  occupation  with  all  his  vim,  and 
look  to  no  other  goal  than  a  marriage  with  her  finally. 

The  Bruisin'  Lad  was  a  consummate  judge  of  human 
nature.     This  knowledge  resulted  from  the   application    of 


THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE.       133 

Ills  quick,  grasping  mind  to  the  various  kinds  of  natures 
he  came  in  contact  witli  during  his  extended  travels.  lie 
had  reasons,  too,  for  trusting  that  knowledge.  He  scarcely 
romemhercd  a  single  instance  in  which  his  quick  perceptions 
hud  failed  him.  Intuitivoly  he  knew,  ma  Sylvester  could 
not  he  trusted  along  auy  line  •  which  diverged  from  the 
natural  course  of  her  desires.  Whilst  generous  to  a  fault 
in  some  things,  she  was  seltish  in  others.  For  one  reason 
alone  he  felt  sure  she  would  use  every  means  in  her  power 
to  cut  liim  oii'  from  all  intercourse  with  Rosa,  and  that  was 
— she  regarded  the  Bruisin'  Lad  as  one  of  her  leading  ring 
horses,  on  account  of  his  admiration  for  her. 

Ma  Sylvester  was  devoted  to  admiration.  She  desired 
the  attention  of  every  man  who  came  in  her  way,  and 
would  flirt  nineteen  to  the  dozen.  She  liked  to  he  told 
that  she  was  liandsome  ;  that  she  was  clever ;  that  she  was 
heautiful  and  fascinating,  and  she  had  no  use  for  any  one 
v.'ho  did  not  think  her  ditferent  from  the  rest  of  her  sex  in 
everything.  The  Bruisin'  Lad,  knowing  she  was  married 
and  seeing  much  in  her  to  admire,  had  on  several  occasions 
expressed  this  admiration.  She,  therefore,  in  many  little 
ways  had  shown  that  she  regarded  Metcalf  as  her  especial 
appropriation,  and  had  been  very  restive  more  than  once 
because  he  did  not  bow  down  sufficient!}-  to  please  her. 
She  boasted  often  of  the  tact  that  she  managed  her  coterie 
of  admirers  just  as  an  equestrian  scientist  governed  his 
trick  horses  in  a  ring.  When  the  Bruisin'  Lad  found  that 
she  regarded  him  in  even  the  light  of  a  possible  admirer, 
he  had  nothing  further  to  say  than  ordinary  ci^^lity 
demanded. 

When  he  reached  Shirly  he  had  not  been  in  the  house 
two  hours  before  he  heard  some  one  approach  the  parlor 
door,  in  which  room  he  was  sitting. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  ^[etcalf,  for  intruding  upon  you,  but 
I  understand  you  have  just  returned  from  Etna,  and  I 
wanted  to  see  you  just  a  moment'"  spoke  Mrs.  Sylvester. 


134  THAT  BRITI8IN*    LAD  0^    GRElYSfONE  LODGE 

"  Certainly  ;  take  a  seat,  won't  you  ?" 

''  Xo,  T  will  stand,"  she  said,  closing  the  door  behind 
her.  "  Mr.  Metcalf,  do  you  think  you  liave  treated  me 
right  ?  " 

"  Wliat  do  you  mean,  Mrs.  Sylvester?"    he   inquired. 

"  Didn't  you  write  to  Rosa  every  day,  and  didn't  you 
go  down  to  see  her  Saturda}'  ? '' 

Metcalf  was  astounded  to  be  thus  taken  to  task  by  her. 
At  first  he  could  not  divine  what  she  meant.  At  all  events 
he  determined  to  be  guarded. 

"  I  have  not  informed  any  one  what  I  have  been 
doing." 

"  Didn't  you  write  letters  to  Rosa  ?  "  ^ 

"  I  wrote  some,"  he  answered. 

"  Yes,  and  one  of  them  was  twenty  pages.  T  can  even 
tell  you  what  you  said  in  it.  Ah  !  I  know  all  about  what 
yon  have  been  doing." 

"  Then  you  must  have  read  it  Ijefore  I  sent  it,"  he 
retorted. 

The  Bruisin'  Lad  knew  she  had  read  none  of  his  letters, 
knew  that  she  would  not  stoop  to  such  a  trick.  But  the 
accusation  did  the  work  he  intended. 

"  I  take  that  as  an  insult  I  "  she  exclaimed  "  The  idea 
of  my  reading  any  one's  letters!  I  would  scorn  to  do  such 
a  thing  I  " 

"  Well,  as  Miss  Rosa  would  be  incapable  of  showing  a 
gentleman's  letters,  you  must  have  seen  this  one  ere  it  left 
here,"  he  said,  sending  the  shaft  home  this  timj.  lie  knew 
before  many  moments  self-exculpation  would  give  him  the 
information  he  wanted. 

'■'■  Yes,  and  Miss  Rosa  is  the  very  one  who  told 
al)Out  it,"  she  said. 

"  I  don't  l)elieve  it." 

"  Then  how  could  it  be  known  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  and  care  less." 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    fiREYSTONE  LODGE.  135 

"  Do  you  meau  to  say  that  you  are  not  in  love  with 
Rosa  ? " 

"  I  have  not  told  any  one  that  I  cared  for  her." 

"  You  know  you  love  her  !  "  she  said  angrily.  ''  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  for  telling  Rosa  that  you 
l(jve  her,  at  the  same  time  talldng  as  you  did  to  others." 

"  How  did  I  talk  to  others  ?  " 

"  You  told  them  that  you  liked  them  ;  that  they  were 
handsome  and  clever." 

"  I  say  the  same  now,"  he  said,  smiling  in  spite  of 
himself. 

"  I  know  what  you  have  Ijeeii  doing ;  how  many  letters 
vou  have  written,"  she  said.  "  I  know  also  about  her  usk- 
ing  you  to  return  the  letter  she  wrote  you.  See  !  I  am 
posted.  And  I  want  to  say  this  :  I  am  going  to  watch  the 
matter,  and  if  I  tind  yon  have  been  false  to  any  one,  I  will 
make  you  pay  for  it !  " 

That  was  a  threat  which  surprised  the  Bruisin'  Lad  on 
less  than  it  angered  him.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  check  any 
such  language  for  the  future. 

"  You  are  a  married  lady,  Mrs.  Sylvester,"  he  said 
slowly,  as  if  measuring  every  word  before  uttering  it.  "  If 
I  were  to  make  love  to  every  woman  in  the  universe  it  could 
not  concern  you,  unless,  relying  upon  promises  of  miue, 
you  had  made  up  your  mind  to  leave  your  husl)and's  roof 
and  care.  Do  you  recollect  my  having  entered  into  such 
an  agreement  ?  " 

For  a  moment  she  was  dumbfounded — utterly  amazed 
— so  much  so  that  her  tongue  refused  to  speak.  The 
Bruisin'  Lad  had  a  remarkably  plain  way  of  putting  things, 
and  a  disagreeable,  grating  manner  of  getting  rid  of  them. 
Finally  she  recovered  her  self-possession  enough  to    speak. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf,  have  you  lost  your  mind  ?  What  do 
you  mean  by  speaking  so  to  me  ?  Surely  you  do  not  know 
me !     Do  I  recollect  any  such  agreement !     Why,  such   an 


136  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge. 

idea,  one  way  or  the  other,  never  entered  ray  head!  "  she 
exclaimed,  looking  downright  horror-stricken. 

"  Nor  (lid  it  ever  enter  mine  to  be  dangling  around 
you,  staying  soft  nothings  and  leaving  that  kind  of  court 
which  you  see  so  many  fools  giving  to  married  ladies  of  this 
day,"  he  said  emphatically.  "  If  in  the  zenith  of  your 
wonderful  imaginary  powers  such  an  idea  ever  entered  your 
brain,  I  simply  wish  to  disabuse  you  of  it.  The  mode  I 
referred  to  a  moment  ago  is  the  only  way  by  which  an 
unmarried  man  could  be  false  to  a  married  lady.  Since 
you  disclaim  the  existence  ot  such  a  state  of  things  between 
us,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  discern  how  I  have  been,  or  ever  could 
be  false  to  you — except  in  your  imagination.  By  your 
accusation  made,  I  should  presume  that  you  deem  oxery 
man  false  who  fails  to  pay  you  just  such  attentions  as  you 
desire,  to  say  nothing  of  liis  wishes  on  the  subject." 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Metcalf!"  she  cried,  drawing  her- 
self up  in  a  dignified  maimer.  "  I  do  not  wish  the  atten- 
tions of  anyone  who  does  not  give  them  freely  of  his  own 
accord.  Nevertheless,  you  will  see  that  I  shall  find  out  every 
line  you  write  ;  ever3'thing  you  do." 

"  Probably  you  may.  If  Miss  Reynolds,  as  a  dutiful 
daughter,  conceals  nothing  from  her  mother,  certainly  she 
is  not  to  blame  lor  her  parent's  indecant  exposure  of  things," 
he  said. 

"  Elmira  didn't  tell  me  anything,"  she  said. 

"  But  you  derived  the  information  from  your  cousin 
Sallie,  the  Fat  Lady.  She  got  hers  from  Mrs.  Reynolds. 
She  has  just  come  from  there  and  you  have  seen  her  since." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  who  wrote  or  told  me," 
she  said.  "But  you  need  not  blame  Elmira,  because  she 
hasn't  done  anything.  If  Rosa  wanted  her  letters  back,  it 
was  not  through  her  mother's  seeking,  but  her  own.  It 
nuiy  be  surprising  to  you,  but  Elmira  doesn't  wish  her  to 
correspond  with  anyone,  because  she  informed  me  that 
Rosa  was  engaged  to  a  gentleman  in  Washington.      She  is 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  137 

going  to  bt!  iiiurried  to  tluit  man,  and  it"  f  were  in  your 
place  I  would  not  bother  myself  about  a  lady  who  cared 
nothing  for  me,  and  was  going  to  unite  her  fortunes  with 
tliose  of  another.     You  will  never  marry  her  in  this  world." 

With  that  parting  shot  she  left  the  room.  She  really 
believed  that  the  matter  had  been  so  delicately  managed  by 
Mrs.  Reynolds  that  the  api)lication  made  by  Rosa  for  her 
letters,  was  ample  foundation  on  which  to  ground  the 
assertion  that  she  cared  nothing  for  Metcalf.  So  well  did 
she  think  the  thing  had  been  conducted  that  she  really 
thought  Charlie  must  see  the  matter  in  the  same  light. 

But  Cliarlie,  already  acquainted  with  the  true  standing 
of  matters,  looked  through  neither  Mrs.  Reynold's,  the 
Fat  Lady's  nor  ma  Sylvester's  glasses.  He  viewed  the 
whole  thing  through  those  given  him  by  Rosa  when  she 
asked  for  her  letters,  and  took  her  words  as  she  uttered 
them,  her  acts  in  the  panorama  as  she  went  through  each 
one,  with  her  ingenuous,  true  manner,  and  not  as  the 
others  would  have  him  look  upon  them.  To  apply  a  trite, 
but  homely  saying  to  the  subject,  Rosa  hedged  beautifully 
on  the  whole  crowd  by  her  candor  to  Metcalf  She  duti- 
fully followed  her  mother's  instructions,  yet  in  such  a 
manner  as  not  to  convey  a  false  impression  on  the  Bruisin' 
Lad. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

About  a  week  after  the  discussion  between  ma  Sylvester 
and  the  Bruisin'  Lad,  Mrs,  Reynolds  accosted  her  daughter 
one  morning  just  before  she  started  to  the  place  of  her 
usual  avocation  for  the  day. 


138  THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  (jreystone  lodge. 

"  Rosa,  yoM  must  never  speak  to  that  Mr.  Metcall" 
ui^aiii.     Did  he  return  vour  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes— hotli." 

*•'  Is  he  writing  to  you  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mama  ;  he  writes  as  usual." 

"  Then  write  him  to-day  not  to  send  any  more  of  his 
letters.     Tell  him  that  you  don't  wish  to  receive  them." 

"  Mama,  why  shoidd  I  do  this  ?  " 
'"  Because  T  tell  you  to,"  replied  her  motlier  in  a   com- 
manding tone. 

"  You  told  me  to  get  my  letters  hack,  mama,  and  I  did 
so.  You  said  you  would  give  me  a  reason.  You  have  not 
done  so  yet,  and  now  you  want  me  to  stop  his  letters. 
Mama,  I  enjoy  them  very  much,  indeed,  and  I  faney  he 
likes  to  write  them.  Tell  me  now,  why  he  should  not  con- 
tinue to  write  them  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  that  man  is  a  scoundrel — a  deceitful  villain. 
He  is  married  and  has  a  wife  living. 

"  Mr.  Metcalf  has  a  wife  living !  "  exclaimed  she, 
every  particle  of  color  receding  from  her  cheeks.  "Mama! 
you  have  lost  your  mind  !  Charlie  Metcalf  might  have 
heen  married  once,  hut  he  is  single.  Of  course  he  is,  mama! 
hecause  he  lives  all  alone." 

"I  tell  you,  he  is  married.  His  wife  is  in  Baltimore 
now.  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about.  Everybody  says 
he  is  married,  and  to  prove  it,  I  have  a  letter  here  from  your 
aunt  Sylvester,  who  says  a  friend  of  his  told  her.  More- 
over, he  has  been  talking  about  you — " 

"  Talking  about  me  !  "  she  interrupted.  "  I  don't 
believe  it.     What  did  he  say  ? " 

"  He  said  he  didn't  care  anything  about  you — that  he 
never  loved  you." 

"  Did  aunt  Sylvester  write  you  that  ? "  she  asked 
slowly. 

"  Yes:  here  is  the  letter." 


That  fiRiiisiN*  lad  o*  greystone  lodge.  139 

"T  don't  want  to  see  it — stay,  yes,  I  will  read  it,"  she 
said,  reaching  out  her  hand  for  it. 

Iler  mother  handed  her  the  letter,  wlii(di  she  opened 
and  read  as  follows  : 

"  Shirly,  July  15th,  1884. 
Mv  Dear   Ej>mira  : 

I  think  T  ought  to  write  you  about  a  certain  gentle- 
man rooming  at  my  house  who  has  been  writing  to  and 
visiting  Jvosa.  He  is  a  married  man  and  is  a  very  peculiar 
l»erson.  I  will  call  him  Smith,  and  when  you  wTite«3'ou 
call  him  the  same.  We  must  be  very  careful  what  we  say 
say  and  write,  and  not  let  any  one  know  w^hat  we  are  doing. 
He  says  that  he  is  willing  for  anybody  to  see  the  letters  he 
wrote  Rosa,  and  that  he  cares  no  more  for  her  than  the  dirt 
ujider  my  buggy  wheel.  You  cannot  rely  upon  him.  You 
had  better  be  careful  that  Rosa  neither  writes  to  him  nor 
receives  his  visits.     Write  soon. 

Your  aft'ectionate  sister, 

Jennie  Sylvester." 

This  was  from  the  oracle — the  leader  par  excellence  of 
this  family.  But  even  in  that  composition,  the  untutored 
girl  with  her  sharp  feminine  instin(;t,  traced  feelings  so 
strong  that  the  truth  in  a  measure  was  covered,  even  to  her 
mind.  The  part  alhiding  to  statements  made  by  him  did 
not  affect  her  at  all,  but  the  saying  that  he  was  married  cut 
her  to  the  quick.  She  handed  it  back  to  her  mother  without 
a  word. 

"  What  have  you  to  say  now?"  asked  her  mother 
jeeringly. 

"  Nothing,  mama;  except  I  believe  there  is  some  ex- 
jtlanation  about  his  being  married.  T  no  more  believe  he 
has  a  living  wife  who  has  any  claims  upon  him  than  that  T 
am  married.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  a  divorce,  you 
know." 

"  You  would  marry  a  divorced  man,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Metcalf  has  never  asked  me." 

"  At  any  rate  you  write  him  as  soon  as  you  reach  town 
that  you  yv^ant  no  more  of  his  documents." 


140  THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE. 

"  Yes,  mama,  I  will,"  answered  the  girl,  turning  wearily 
away  and  putting  on  lier  gloves. 

In  a  few  moments  she  was  traeing  her  way  towards  the 
city.  She  had  taken  the  Bruisin'  Lad's  part,  nevertheless, 
she  suffered  intensely.  Once  or  twice  she  ahnost  staggered 
walking  down  the  little  lane.  From  her  habyhood  to  this 
moment  she  never  knew  such  emotional  suffering.  She 
realized  slowly  but  surely  how  closely  the  Bruisin'  Lad  had 
entwined  himself  around  the  tendrils  of  her  heart;  how 
inexpressibly  dear  he  had  become  to  her  ;  how  her  love  for 
him  permeated  every  fibre  of  her  heart,  and  was  the  govern- 
ing power  of  her  existence,  Avhich  all  the  rest  of  her  nature 
bowed  down  to  and  worshipped.  Dull,  hopeless  despair 
seemed  to  sieze  her  soul  as  the  words  of  the  Poet  Laureate 
rang  in  her  ears  : 

"  Too  late,  too  late,  ye  cannot  enter  now." 

Mechanically  she  pursued  her  way,  thinking  and  think- 
ing, until  her  brain  seemed  to  be  on  fire.  She  came  presently 
to  the  bridge  and  her  heart  swelled  as  she  remembered  how 
bright  and  happy  they  were,  crossing  there  a  short  time 
back.  As  the  city  came  in  full  view  she  longed  to  flee  and 
l)e  alone.  She  shrank  from  human  gaze.  Her  suffering 
was  so  acute  she  thought  anyone  could  read  it.  Reaching 
the  railroad  crossing,  the  early  east  bound  passenger  train 
passed,  preventing  her  from  walking  -over  the  track  for 
some  moments.  Watching  it  pass,  the  rumbling  of  the 
coaches  caused  her  i>ain ;  each  revolution  of  the  wheels 
seemed  to  l)e  crushing  out  all  life  and  happiness,  and 
mangling — ruthlessly  tearing  her  heart  into  pieces.  She 
stood  it  the  best  she  could,  nonetheless  she  bled  sorely. 

But  youth  combined  with  the  pleasures  of  hope,  react. 
She  commenced  to  think  aV)out  the  matter  as  her  love 
directed.  The  open,  brown  eyes  of  the  Bruisin'  Lad;  his 
clear-cut  features;  his  gentlemanly  bearing  and  digjiified 
demeanor  negatived  the  idea  that  he  would  be  guilty  of  so 
dishonorable   an  act  as  to  seek  the  affections  of  any  lad}' 


tHAT  BRUISIn'   lad  o'    GREYSTONE  tODGH.  141 

when  he  was  married  and  living  witli  a  wife.  Why  didn't 
lie  ever  mention  it  ?  Why  didn't  somebody  in  Shirly  know 
something  about  it  ?  Why  di(hi't  he  visit  her  or  wljy 
wasn't  she  sometimes  with  him? 

Then  his  looks,  his  soft,  gentle  manners,  his  earnest 
tones  and  consistent  acts,  all  pleaded  in  his  behalf.  eTnst 
before  reaching  the  store  she  said  firmly  to  herself: 

"  I  don't  believe  he  has  any  wife,  legally  or  morally, 
nor  will  I  ever  belicA'e  it  unless  he  tells  me  so  himself.  He 
may  have  been  married,  but  for  his  present  state  there  is 
some  explanation." 

This  kind  of  faith  comes  but  from  two  sources:  recti- 
tude of  i)rinciple  on  the  part  of  the  believer:  the  highest 
type  of  human  love  for  the  person  believed  in. 

Reaching  filestore  she  sought  for  writing  materials. 
She  would  follow  the  commands  of  her  mother  about  stop- 
ping the  letters. 

Oh,  how  disagreeable  it  was !  Only  a  few  days  ago 
she  had  walked  out  of  this  very  room  with  the  handsome, 
elegant  Metcalf,  amid  the  glances  of  her  associates.  How 
distingue  he  always  looked  ?  How  neatly  and  tastefully  he 
dressed  ?  He  talked  differently  from  anyone  else — had 
that  quiet,  easy,  elegant,  genteel  manner  which  always 
bespeaks  birth.  The  young  ladies  remarked  upon  it ;  she 
had  often  noticed  it.  Maybe  even  now  those  very  girls  won- 
dered why  she  should  liave  received  a  married  gentleman. 
What  would  she  say  if  they  asked  her  about  the  matter  ? 

Through  all  she  belie\'ed  in  the  man  and  was  true. 

She  took  up  her  pen.  Could  she  write  him  that  lie 
must  stop  writing  because  she  didn't  want  to  receive  them  ? 
Could  she  write  him  that  she  was  tired  of  his  letters  and  he 
must  cease  sending  them  ?  Xo,  she  could  say  none  of  these 
things.  She  would  simpl}-  write  the  truth.  Taking  up  a 
piece  of  paper,  she  wrote  : 

"  Etxa,  N.  C,  July  17th,  1884. 

Please  don't  write  any  more  letters  for  I  cannot  receive 
them.  Rosa," 


142  TI'IAT  BRCTSIN'    lad  o'    GRElrSTONE  LODGfi 

That  was  true,  and  she  felt  that  the  Bruisin'  Lad  would 
understand  that  she  could  not  receiv^e  them.  Tliere  was  no 
'.'ontradiction  in  this  assertion  to  that  made  to  him  when 
she  saAv  liim  that  she  was  glad  to  get  his  letters  and  enjoyed 
-them.  She  sent  this  to  the  office  and  determined  patiently  to 
wait  the  development  of  results. 

While  Rosa  was  writing  lier  letter,  Mrr^,  Ileynolds  was 
indicting  one,  too.  Hers  was  to  ma  Sylvester.  The  con- 
tents were  to  this  eflect : 

"Etna,  X.  C,  Jnly  ITth,  1S.S4. 
^^Y  Dear  Jexxie  : 

I  did  not  receive  your  letter  until  last  evening.  I 
jiever  had  any  use  for  that  fellow  Smith.  What  docs  lu' 
mean?  He  is  a  deceitful  wretch — a  monster,  to  talk  as  he 
did  to  you.  I  have  pai't  of  the  letters  he  wrote  yet.  I  luade 
a  fire  with  some  of  them.  When  I  come  up  I  will  let  you 
see  them.  He  is  a  designing  wretch.  Rosa  cares  nothing 
for  him,  iu)t  even  enough  to  bring  the  flowers  he  sends  her, 
home.  She  only  Avrote  him  ;i  letter  asking  him  to  stoj) 
writing  to  her.  We  half  way  expect  him  down  here,  hnt 
if  he  comes  she  will  not  receive  him.  You  are  right;  we 
must  not  let  anyone  know  anything  about  what  we  are 
doing,  but  be  as  ([uiet  as  possible.  I  don't  care  much  if 
you  tell  that  fellow  what  I  think  al)Out  him.  I  boite  to  see 
you  soon. 

^'our  affect,  sister, 

Elmika  Reynolds. ■■ 

This  letter  she  sent  to  the  office  by  Joe.  Assuming 
ma  Sylvester's  letter  as  a  composition  of  truth,  Mrs,  i^iw- 
nolds  could  scarcely  be  Idamed  for  the  tenor  of  hers.  She 
firmly  believed  her  daugliter  was  being  sought  after  b}^  an 
unprincipled  villain,  and  tliat  it  was  her  duty  to  protecr  her 
from  him  in  every  way  slie  could.  But  it  nevei-  once 
occurred  to  her  to  do  Metcalf  the  simple  Justice  of  demand- 
ing an  ex]»lanation  from  him  as  to  all  these  things  she 
heard. 

None  of  the  Bruisin'  Lad's  friends  had  e\er  known 
him   to  refuse  to  exitlain   anything  which   could  be  reason- 


THAT  bruisin'  lad  o'  grbystone  lodge.  148 

al)ly  required  of  him.  While  she  was  pondering  over  this 
matter  Joe  came  in  from  the  office  with  a  letter  for  her. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it,  Joe?  "  she  asked,  wondering 
who  sent  it. 

"  From  the  postoitice  ;  where  else  do  you  reckon, 
mama?  " 

"Who  wrote  it,  do  you  suppose,  Joe?"  she  asked 
again,  turning  it  over  and  over  again. 

"  How  can  I  tell,  mama,  as  I  have  neither  opened  nor 
read  it,"  said  the  little  girl. 

"  Well,  I'll  read  it — go  out  and  play,  Joe,"  she  said, 
hreaking  open  the  letter. 

"  Yes,  mama,"  said  Joe.  "If  you  have  any  difficulty 
in  reading  or  understanding  it,  call  me  and  I  will  spell  it 
out  for  you." 

Already  she  was  reading  it. 

"Shirly,  July  16th,  1884. 
Mrs.  Elmira  Reynolds  : 

My  Dear  Madam : 
I  write  to  know  if  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  accord  me 
an  interview  on  next  Sunday.  I  have  something  in  connec- 
tion with  myself  which  I  desire  you  to  know,  and  which  [ 
do  not  choose  to  leave  unsaid  any  longer.  A  reply  will 
greatly  oblige  Yours  very  truly, 

Charles  Metcalf." 

She  was  very  much  surprised  at  tliis  epistle,  and  won- 
dered what  he  wanted  to  say  to  her.  She  was  sure  he  had 
some  sinister  or  ulterior  motive  in  view.  Moreov^er,  if  he 
came  there  again,  peoples'  tongues  w^ould  wag,  and  that 
would  be  the  worst  thing  which  could  happen  for  liosa. 
On  the  whole  she  preferred  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
him.  She  would  write  and  tell  him  so.  She  g(jt  out  her 
writing  materials  and  wrote  this  letter  : 

"Etna,  July  17th,  1884. 
Mr.  Metcalf  : 

Yours  asking  for  interview  has  just  been  received.     It 
will  not  be  agreeable  to  give  you  the  desired  interview. 
Do  not  write  to  my  daughter  aiiymore.     I  object  to  it. 
Respectfully,  Elmira  Reynolds." 


144  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  (iREYSTONE  LODUE. 

She  sealed  and  .sent  this  letter.  When  she  did  that  she 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  Bruisin'  Lad  the  very  artillery 
he  wished  to  use  against  ma  Sylvester.  She  said  Mrs.  Rey- 
nolds was  having  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  that  Rosa  was  the 
one  objecting  to  any  intercourse  with  Metealf.  The  same 
ihiy  on  which  Rosa  wrote  the  Bruisin'  Lad  that  she  could 
not  receive  his  letters,  Mrs.  Reynolds  wrote  that  she 
objected.  The  latter,  hy  this  move,  checkmated  ma  Syl- 
vester, and  threw  the  game  at  the  Shirly  end  completely  in 
the  hands  of  That  Bruisin'  Lad  0'  Greystone  Lodge. 


CHAPTER  XVL 

Ma  and  pa  Sylvester  were  seated  in  their  piazza  late 
one  evening,  enjoying  the  cool  mountain  atmosphere  after 
an  extremely  hot  day.  There  was  an  unliappy,  soured 
expression  upon  her  countenance  at  which  pa  Sylvester 
glanced  furtively  and  unseen  every  now  and  then.  Accord- 
ing to  her  idea  things  were  all  wTong,  and  she  was  sure  no 
one  could  right  them  except  herself. 

In  the  iirst  place,  Frank  Gordon  had  turned 
o,ut  to  he  not  a  mere  penniless  adventurer,  as  she 
would  have  him  he,  hut  the  son  of  Doctor  E.  A 
Gordon,  of  Weston,  one  of  the  most  elegant  and  wealthy 
gentlemen  in  the  State  of  North  Carolina.  Ma  Sylvester 
knew^  that  while  she  could  laud  it  over  the  Shirly  folks  and 
her  connections,  she  could  no  more  put  on  airs  before  those 
cultured  ])eople  than  she  could  travel  the  world  in  eighty 
days.  Already  she  felt  the  contempt  with  which  she  knew 
the  Westons  would  look  upon  herself  and  surrounding  from 
a  letter  Julia  received.  The  old  doctor  wrote  that  whilst 
he  recognized  the  great  social  gulf  between  herself  and  his 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  145 

son  he  was  willing  to  bridge  that  on  account  of  Frank's 
haj)i)iness.  Not  a  word  did  he  say  about  her  faiiiily  ;  neither 
a  good  wish  nor  an  expression  as  to  the  future  intercourse 
between  the  two.  Ma  Sylvester  would  have  broken  up  the 
alliance  at  all  hazards,  but  the  young  people,  supported  by 
pa  Sylvester,  routed  her.  They  had  made  all  their  plans  to 
}»e  married  in  the  fall,  and  at  last  she  tacitly  consented  to  it 
because  she  was  powerless  to  offer  resistance. 

"  Cheer  up,  ma,"  said  pa  Sylvester,  "and  do  not  look 
so  gloomy.  You  can't  expect  to  keep  the  girl  always  with 
you." 

"  If  she  had  chosen  properly  we  might  have  had  her 
always  with  us.  But  we  will  lose  her  now  sure  enough. 
Precious  little  those  proud  Gordon's  care  about  mingling 
with  us  !  " 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  consider  Julia's  happiness  before 
all.  She  is  just  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long,  and  he  cer- 
tainly is  a  gentleman.  Jennie,  we  can't  run  over  those  kind 
of  people  to  save  our  lives.  Their  superiority  is  stamped 
upon  them.  Make  up  your  mind  to  bear  it  as  well  as  you 
can,  and  comfort  yourself  with  the  reflection  that  Julia 
takes  her  place  among  those  fine  folks  at  the  beginning  of 
her  life,  to  associate  with  whom  you  have  been  striving  all 
of  yours." 

The  modest  John  Sylvester,  the  modest  contractor,  had 
shoals  of  good,  hard,  common  sense  in  a  modest  way,  which 
he  invariably  exhibited  in  a  modest  manner. 

"  Everything  goes  against  me,"  she  proceeded  mourn- 
fully. "  Nobody  cares  for  me,  and  I  am  always  in  some- 
body's way.  Every  body  seems  to  be  happy,  while  I  am 
miserable." 

"  Yes,  some  one  does  care  for  you,"  he  said,  patting 
her  shoulders  affectionately.  "  I  care  for  you,  and  a  great 
many  other  people  love  you.  Very  few  persons  have  more 
admirers  and  friends  than  you.  Cheer  up  !  and  to-morrow 
I  will  carry  you  dow^n  and  you  can  pick   two   nice   dresses 


146  THAT  BRUISIN"    LAD  0     (^REYSTONE  LODGE. 

for    yourself    while    you    are    ordering    Julia's     wedding 
shindig."  e 

"Trousseau,  Mr.  Sylvester!  "  she  exclaimed,  severely. 

"  Well,  whatever  you  call  it." 

"  Yonder  goes  that  Metcalf  now  with  Gordon,"  she 
said,  her  lip  curling.  "  I  am  going  to  l)reak:  up  Frank's 
associating  with  him." 

"  My  dear,  that's  just  where  you  make  a  mistake — 
endeavoring  to  do  everything  to  suit  yourself.  That's  well 
enough  among  your  own  kith  and  kin,  hut  other  people 
won't  stand  it.     I  wonder  what  they  are  reading?  " 

"  Some  letter,  I  suppose."  she  replied,  absently,  as  she 
watched  them  go  up  the  street. 

When  the  Bruisin'  Lad  returned  from  Etna  he  took 
Gordon  into  his  confidence,  feeling  lie  needed  some  one  to 
consult  and  advise  with.  They  were  just  returning  from 
the  postotfice,  where  Charlie  received  Mrs.  Reynold's  reply 
to  his  letter.  He  was  at  that  moment  showing  it  to  Gor- 
don, who  listened  with  much  interest,  and,  occasionally  in 
a  patronising  manner  characteristic  of  rnen  in  his  eligible, 
position,  suggested  what  should  be  done.  He  was  much 
amused  at  the  Bruisin'  Lad  writing  Mrs.  Reynolds  about 
the  interview,  and  her  reply. 

"  She  put  her  foot  in,  and  no  mistake,"  laughed  Frank. 
"  I  tell  you,  Metcalf,  you  can  turn  her  down  nicely.  Just 
write  her  that  her  daughter  has  already  requested  an  end  to 
all,  and,  therefore,  her  objections  are  unnecessary  and  her 
fears  groundless.  These  women  are  always  g'etting  their 
feet  in  it  in  some  kind  of  fashion.  I  say!  did  it  ever  strike 
you  that  the  Etna  girl  is  a  deuced  sharp  one  ?  She  has 
managed  things  wonderfully  well.  Nine-tenths  of  the 
female  sex  in  her  situation  would  have  either  wounded  you 
fearfully  or  resisted  lier  people.      She  is  a  peculiar  genius." 

"  I  have  been  struck  with  her  breadth  and  grasp  of 
mind  several  times,"  said  Metcalf,  his  eyes  filling  with  a 
soft  light. 


THAT  BRUISIn'  lad  0*  GREYSTONE  LODGE.  147 

"  Well,  what  are  vour  iilans  now  ?  " 

"  I  shall  write  James  Metcalf  all  about  it — reply  to 
Mrs.  Reynold's  letter — go  and  haA'e  an  interview  with  Rosa, 
and  see  what  she  will  say." 

"  I  would  let  nia  Sylvester  know  that  the  Washington 
chap  is  nowhere,  so  far  as  Rosa  is  concerned." 

"  Not  until  after  I  see  the  latter.  You  see,  she  may 
not  marry  me  on  account  of  my  misfortune." 

"  But  aa  I  understand  it,  you  never  have  been  married. 
You  may  be  a  subject  of  pity,  but  surely  not  of  blame." 

"  I  know  that." 

"  Isn't  it  awful,  old  fellow,  to  have  everyone  think  you 
are  married,  when  as  a  matter  of  fact  you  are  not  ?  I  would 
have  kicked  long  ago." 

"  Not  if  it  subjected  the  lady  to  a  criminal  prosecution, 
you  wouldn't  have  done  so,"  said  Charlie,  quietly. 

"  Strange  !  you  didn't  tell  the  girl  about  it,"  remarked 
Frank. 

"  I  have  never  had  an  opportunity.  When  I  see  her 
next  I  will  tell  her  all,  and  if  she  will  promise  me  never  to 
forget  me  then  all  will  be  right,  and  as  soon  as  she  is  of  age 
I  will  claim  her." 

"  You  won't  do  the  romantic  then  and  elope  with  her, 
provided  she  is  willing." 

"  She  is  too  high'  a  woman  to  consent  to  any  such  pro- 
ceeding unless  forced,''  said  Metcalf  "  Xo,  I  will  wait. 
All  I  want  is  her  word  at  present.  I  never  loved  any  other 
woman,  and  it  is  a  life  time  matter  with  me." 

"  Metcalf,  I  couldn't  wait  that  long.  It  seems  to  me 
that  next  fall  will  never  come.  I  am  going  now  and  iind 
my  sweet,  little  vixen  and  take  a  walk." 

"  She  cleaned  up  ma  Sylvester,  didn't  she  ? "  laughed 
the  Bruisin'  Lad. 

"  Whipped  her  all  to  tits,"  grinned  Gordon,  "My 
Respected  Parent  has  consented  to  receive  her,  and  all  will 
go  as  merry  as  a — " 


l48  THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LOtG^. 

"  Don't  say  Marriage  Bell — it  is  such  a  common 
speech,"  interrupted  Charlie. 

"  Well — as  a  Strawberry  Feast,"  lau2:hed  Gordon, 
moving  away. 

Metcalf  went  into  thcinclosure  and  walked  towards  the 
piazza. 

"  What  are  you  smiling  at  so,"  he  incjuircd,  as  he  dis- 
covered Mr.  Sylvester  sitting  upon  the  porch,  very  much 
amused  about  some  thing. 

•'What  do  you  suppose  is  coming  to  pass?"  he 
inquired. 

"  I  am  sure  I  can't  tell." 

"  Why,  Miss  Eliza  Langdon  is  going  to  be  married." 

"  She  ain't !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  she  is — and  guess  to  whom  ?  " 

Metcalf  thought  for  a  moment 

"  It  must  be  Sisson,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"  You  are  right — ain't  it  funny  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  what  brother-in-law  Griswold  has  to  sa}' 
about  it  ?  "  asked  Metcalf,  laughing  softly. 

"  Oh,  she  is  doing  it  to  spite  him.  They  had  a  fnss 
and  she  is  determined  Griswold's  family  shall  have  none  of 
her  property  when  she  dies.     Sheer  revenge  !  " 

"  But  isn't  she  rather  too  old  to  indulge  in  that  kind 
of  revenge,  with  any  probability  of  success  ?  " 

"  Hard  to  tell  what  a  lady  will  do,"  said  pa  Sylvester, 
sagely.  "  They  will  fool  you  every  time,  and  alwa^^s  do 
what  you  least  expect.  By  the  way — Mrs.  Sylvester  wislies 
to  speak  with  you  a  moment  in  the  parlor." 

The  Bruisin'  Lad  sauntered  on  into  the  room  and 
found  her  pacing  back  and  forth  as  if  very  much  excited. 

"Mr.  Metcalf,  I  want  to  see  you  just  a  moment.  I 
wish  to  apologize  for  the  hasty  expression  I  used  to  you  the 
other  day.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  matters,  and 
assure  you  that  I  will  have  nothing  to  say  in  connection 
with  Rosa  and  yourself." 


f  HA*  bruisin'  lad  o'  greystone  lodge.  149 

"  No  apology  is  necessary,  Mrs.  Sylvester,"  he  said, 
kindly.  "  Don't  worry  yourself  about  it.  I  was  sure  you 
said  it  hastily,  and  thought  no,  more  about  it." 

"  But  as  a  matter  ot'justice,  I  want  to  say  tliis,"  she 
went  on.  "  Neither  Sallie,  Elmira  nor  I  had  anything  to 
do  with  Rosa's  steps  in  this  matter.  She  took  everyone 
herself,  irrespective  of  advice  from  anyone — so  you  can  see 
that  she  cares  nothing  for  you." 

"  Your  theory  about  her  caring  nothing  tor  me  may  be 
true,"  he  said,  smiling  in  a  conlident  manner.  "  But  your 
assertion  as  to  facts  is  a  total  mistake." 

His  calm  assurance  in  speaking,  and  contident  smile 
made  her  divine  for  the  first  time  that  she  had  probably 
failed  to  reach  the  true  facts  in  the  case. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  sur- 
prised look. 

"  Your  assertion  that  Miss  Rosa  did  not  wish  to  receive 
the  letters  is  contradicted  by  her  statement  to  me  that  she 
enjoyed  them.  Your  statement  that  Mrs.  Reynolds  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  matter  is  wrong,  because  I  have  her 
letter  stating  that  she  did  object." 

"Well — I — never!"  she  exclaimed,  as  if  her  breath 
was  taken  away.  "  I  think  Elmira  has  treated  me  shame- 
fully !  She  has  not  done  me  right !  She  promised  she 
wouldn't  say  a  word  to  anyone  !  I  have  her  letters  saying 
the  girl  didn't  want  to  receive  your  letters — didn't  care  an}'- 
thing  about  you  !  That  Elmira  Reynolds  is  a  mean  woman  I 
Let  me  tell  you  how  she  treated  my  daughter  Julia  in 
Washington — " 

"■  Stop,  Mrs.  Sylvester,"  iuterrupted  he.  "  I  have 
nothing  to  say  concerning  your  personal  difliculties  with 
Mrs.  Rej'nolds,  because  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  them, 
but  she  hasher  end  of  the  rope,  too.  It  was  but  natural 
that  she  should  be  solicitous  about  her  ^laughter's  welfare. 
But  she  was  misled  by  having  certain  statements  written 
her  which  were  not  placed  in  their  proper  light.  I  am 
informed  that  you  did  that  writing." 


150  THAT  BKT^TSIn'    LAD  o'    GREVStONE  LODGE 

She  was  speechless  tor  a  moment. 

"  I  never  mentioned  your  name  in  a  s^inijle  letter  I 
wrote  lier,"  she  replied. 

"  Then  that  ends  tlic  discussion,  if  you  disclaim  it," 
sjiid  he,  speaking  in  a  kind  of  half  contemptuous  tone,  as 
he   turned   and    left   the    room. 

The  Bruisin'  Lad  Avas  simply  inditferent  now  to  any- 
thing ma  Sylvester  could  say.  He  knew  she  did  write  to 
Mrs.  Reyuolds,  and  used  a  tictitious  name  reyiresenting 
him,  and  in  her  reply  Mrs.  Reynolds  spoke  of  the  same 
name.  Such  evasion  and  subterfuge  as  that  to  couceal  a 
fact  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  contemptible  piece  of 
business  in  Metcalfs  mind. 

He  went  to  his  room  and  wrote  a  letter  to  his  brother, 
James  Metcalf,  informing  him  all  about  the  matter.  He 
also  penned  another  to  Mrs.  Reynolds,  enlightening  her  as 
to  his  true  position  concerning  the  matter  in  connection 
with  her  daughter. 

Having  sealed  and  mailed  these,  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  go  and  see  Rosa  the  third  evening  from  this.  He  thought 
once  of  writing  and  asking  her  to  grant  liim  an  interview; 
1)ut  he  was  sure  she  would  refuse  on  her  mother's  account. 
Finally  he  made  up  his  mind  to  say  nothing  of  the  pro- 
jected visit  to  anyone,  but  go  on  down  in  the  evening,  Join 
her  as  she  was  going  home  and  say  what  he  wanted,  hear 
her  reply,  and  return  on  the  12:40  train. 

At  the  appointed  time  he  left,  without  even  letting 
Gordon  know  where  he  was  going.  He  reached  Etna 
{d)Out  six  o'clock.  When  he  stepped  from  the  train  he 
beckoned  to  a  porter  he  knew — one  who  was  trustworthy. 

"  John,  I  want  something  done."' 

"What  is  it?" 

"  do  u[)  to  ATiss  Limestone's  and  find  out  if  Miss  Rosa 
Reynolds  is  tlier(.%  and  wliat  time  she  goes  from  the  estab- 
lishment to  her  residence  in  the  evening." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  answere<l.  ''  Where  will  I  find  you 
when  I  return?  " 


THAT  BKUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODfiE.  151 

"  In  the  reception-room,  there." 

In  about  ten  minutes  he  returned. 

"  Miss  Reynolds  is  up  there  and  she  goes  iiomc  about 
lialfpast  sixer  a  quarter  to  seven,"  said  the  man,  sniihng 
in  a  knowing  manner. 

"  What  time  is  it  now  ?  "  asked  Metcalf. 

"  Twenty  minutes  past  six,"  he  replied,  grinning  again. 

The  Bruisin'  Lad  strolled  towards  the  bridge  over  the 
Cressida  river.  He  determined  to  wait  there  until  she  carne 
along  and  have  his  say  where  they  looked  over  the  railing 
into  the  water.  Arriving  at  the  spot,  he  took  his  position, 
and  there  came  over  his  face  that  grim,  determined  look 
which  always  shadowed  it  when  his  mind  was  made  up  to 
}»ursue  any  certain  course.  But  once  or  twice  it  relaxed, 
and  a  smile  spread  over  his  features  as  he- thought  how  well 
Rosa  had  managed  the  whole  matter,  and  what  a  safe-guard 
they  created  for  themselves  when  they  adopted  perfect 
candor.  He  became  amused,  too,  when  he  thought  of  his 
being  her<^  in  Etna,  while  Gordon  and  the  rest  thought  he 
was  at  Shirl}',  on  the  street  somewhere.  Presently  he 
turned  his  face  to  the  left  and  his  heart  gave  a  great,  big 
bound,  which  for  a  moment  caused  his  pulse  to  stand  still. 
He  saw^  her  coming.  How  well  he  knew  that  graceful, 
long,  swinging  walk — that  well  turned,  tapering  neck — 
that  rich  coloring.  He  stood  for  several  moments  as  if 
entranced.  She  was  almost  at  him  before  she  looked  up. 
Raising  her  head  when  nearly  o[iposite  to  him,  she  started. 
First  a  glad,  then  a  surprised  look  came  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  here  !  "  she  exclaimed,  pausing  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  I  must  see  you." 

"Is  it  right?" 

"  I  haven't  the  ghost  of  an  idea  ;  I  only  know  that  I  am 
with  you  and  therefore  happy.  Why  did  you  ask  for  your 
letters  back?  " 

For  a  moment  she  looked  dreamily  away  dowji  the 
river. 


152  THAT  BRUISIN'  LAD  o'  GREYSTONE  LODGE 

"  You  had  better  leave  me,  Mr.  Metcalf,  for  mama 
would  not  like  it." 

"  I  shall  not  leave  you  until  you  answer  my  question." 

"Because  I  was  told  to  do  it  by  mama,"  she  answered. 

"  Why  did  you  require  me  to  stop  writing  to  you  ?  " 

"  Mama  told  me  to  do  so." 

"  What  reason  did  your  mama  give  for  making  such 
demands  of  you  ?  " 

Again  there  was  a  pause  as  her  head  drooped. 

"  Because  she  heard  you  were  married,"  she  answered. 

"Did  you  believe  it?" 

"  I  thought  you  might  have  been,  but — but — " 

"  But  what  ?  "  he  asked,  as  she  stammered  and  ])aused. 

"  That  there  might  be  some  explanation  of  the  matter." 

"  Do  you  believe  I  am  married  now?  " 

She  looked  up  frankly  into  his  face  and  met  his  open 
gaze. 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  I  am  not,"  he  said.  "  I  will  tell  you  all  my 
past—" 

"  Xo,  no,  no !  "  she  cried,  looking  at  him  with  a  joyous 
face.  "  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  past.  Your  present 
and  future  is  all  I  have  to  look  to." 

"  Rosa  Reynolds,  you  are  the  truest  woman  that  God 
ever  created." 

"  Am  I,"  she  asked,  looking  into  his  face  with  her 
usual  guileless  simplicity. 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  me  one  thing  and  then  I  will 
be  satisfied." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  Promise  me  that  in  the  troubles  and  difticulties  we 
have  to  face — amidst  all  the  trials  and  hardships  we  have  to 
endure — that  you  will  never  forget  me." 

"  I  promise,"  she  said. 

"  Spell  those  words  on  your  lingers  slowly,  in  order 
that  they  may  be  engraved  on  your  heart." 


THAT  BRUISIN'    LAD  o'    GREYSTONE  LODGE.  153 

Slowly,  but  gracefully,  she  spelt  them  out,  looking 
sweetly  and  trustfully  in  his  face  all  the  while. 

"  Thank  you,  dear,"  he  said.  "  Now  what  shall  I 
promise  you  ? " 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered,  softly. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  asked,  drawing  a  little  nearer  to  her. 

"  Because,"  she  answered,  leaning  one  arm  on  the  rail- 
ing, and  looking  at  him  so  full  of  love  and  trust,  "  I  feel 
that  your  own  love  is  the  best  promise  I  can  have.  Couldn't 
you  have  thought  that  of  mine  without  making  me  promise?" 

The  rebuke  stung  not  less  sharply  on  account  of  its 
gentleness.     He  felt  cut  to  the  quick. 

"  Darling,  I  never  doubted  you,"  he  said,  with  an 
eager,  hungry  look. 

"  The  word  doubt  should  never  be  in  the  vocabulary  of 
love,"  she  said,  quietly. 

How  she  turned  the  Bruisin'  Lad  down ! 

"  Do  you  love  me  then  so  much  ?  "  he  asked,  wistfully. 

Looking  at  him  she  said  : 

"  '  I  trust  you,  love  you,  for  your  own  sweet  sake, 
Your  noble  mind  and  body,  heart  and  soul. 

Your  fond  devotion  I  will  ne'er  forsake; 
But  ever  help  you  till  we  reaoh  the  goal 

Of  our  united  lives,  and  fondly  take 
Eternal  comfort  while  the  ages  roll, 

In  the  bright  other  life  towards  which  we  tend, 

Where  hearts  ne'er  separate— joys  never  end."  ' 

Her  voice  died  away  as  she  repeated  the  last  lines. 
The  lights  along  the  river  flickered  up  ever  and  anon,  as  if 
struggling  for  something  they  could  not  reach.  During  the 
moment's  pause  after  she  repeated  the  verse,  the  Bruisin' 
L'dd  was  deeply  touched.  Her  clear-cut  features  were 
almost  death-like  in  their  calm  repose,  as  she  gazed  towards 
the  river.  Metcalf  at  last  found  a  love  in  this  woman's 
lieart  which  he  had  hungered  after  all  his  life,  and  which 
met  the  most  responsive  chords  in  his.  The  sentiment, 
purity  and  guilelessness,  bubbling  forth  with  it,  captivated 
the  man's  whole  nature.  Her  surroundings  were  not  the 
most  propitious  for  cultivation  of  the  higher  sentiments  of 


154 


THAT  BRUrSIN     LAD  0     GREYSTONE  LODGE. 


any  kind  ;  yet,  she  gave  birth  to  a  love  which  can  only 
exist  in  liearts  of  the  highest  capacity.  Her  very  craving 
for  that  purer  field  in  which  to  nurse  and  rear  her  love,  was 
evident  that  her  present  surroundings  were  pulling  her 
downwards,  while  she  longed  to  be  soaring  upwards.  See- 
ing no  happiness  except  in  the  eternal  union  of  their  hearts 
she  uttered  her  cry  for  an  existence  : 

"  In  the  bright  other  life  towards  which  we  tend, 
Where  hearts  ne'er  separate— joys  never  end." 

He  turned  towards  her  with  his  longing,  loving  glance. 

"  And  when  I  come  for  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  will  come  to  you,"  she  returned. 

Without  another  word  she  walked  away,  as  the 
Bruisin'  Lad  looked  into  the  shadows  of  the  night  and  won- 
dered why  lie  should  feel  so  happy. 


THE    END. 


'        '  '     ''''■■ 


I 


